


No Guarantees

by carolinablu85



Category: As the World Turns
Genre: AU, Angst, Family Drama, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Photographer!Noah, Reporter!Luke, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:02:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinablu85/pseuds/carolinablu85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke’s problem is that his latest assignment- interviewing a retired madame- isn’t going to be his big break into the journalism scene. And he can’t admit to anyone, especially himself, that he’s maybe falling for her long-lost son. Faith’s problem is that posing as Noah’s assistant so her brother can get information for his article feels wrong. And she can’t shake the feeling that these two would be perfect for each other. Noah’s problem is that after years of being alone, he isn’t sure how to open up to two very loud, very amazing people. And he’s scared by how much he wants to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I had an idea to do a ‘Luke interviews Charlene and finds her long-lost son’ fic. Then I saw the sweet, awesome little movie called _Safety Not Guaranteed_ and really wanted to do a Nuke fic based on that too. So, instead, I put ‘em together. Thanks for reading!

“Luke, the Councilman's office is on line three. Again,” Georgie’s voice dropped to a little snappier by the end, the  _pick up the goddamn line_ sort of implied in her tone.  
  
“Okay,” Luke replied, distracted, trying to finish up the last sentence of this paragraph, get it just r-  
  
“Luke!”  
  
“Line three, line three!” Luke cowed a little; Georgie was scary when she wanted to be. “Got it! Sorry!” He finished the paragraph, taking his mail from the new intern while answering Mr. Line Three. “This is Luke Snyder.”  
  
He sorted through the mail as he listened to some wonderfully fake-polite-passive-aggressive complaining on the other end. Out went the flyers and junk mail. “Well, Mr. Dymek, I’m sure that’s true, but I called your boss- and you- four times for a comment on my article and never got a response.”  
  
Out next went the mail he’d later pretend he never got. “I understand, but you had four chances to offer your side, back when you thought this wouldn’t get any attention. You can either wait for my follow-up article or go to another publication, but frankly they’re more excited by my account than yours at this point. I’m not retracting my story. Thanks for playing.” He hung up happily, tossing the rest of his mail aside on his desk.  
  
And then realized the intern was still standing there. “Is there something else you-” he finally turned and looked at her, and stopped dead. “Faith?”  
  
“That was very impressive,” she nodded, coming fully into his cubicle-slash-office. “Very strong and snappy. Does Aaron Sorkin know about you?”  
  
He playfully glared at his sister. “What are you doing here?” He reached for his cell phone, bringing up his schedule. “Did we have plans?”  
  
“Relax, Luke. I’m here on actual mail distribution. I’m the new intern, Casey got me the job. Well, ‘job’,” she used air quotes. “Free labor position.”  
  
“Welcome to post-college hell,” he said, consoling. “Casey didn’t tell me-”  
  
“‘Cause this is so much more fun,” another voice interrupted. Casey leaned in the semi-doorway, grinning himself. “Staff meeting in five, buddy. Let’s go.”  
  
Faith mock-waved, heading out to make more mail rounds. Luke watched her go, then turned back to his best friend. “You really kept a secret, I’m impressed.”  
  
“Hey!” Casey shoved him, indignant. “It was attorney-client privilege.”  
  
“You’re a glorified paralegal,” Luke pointed out.  
  
“You’re a glorified dipshit,” Casey also pointed out. “Faith was talking to Maddie a few weeks ago. She needed to get out of that town, man. Away from Snyder drama. No offense.”  
  
“None definitely taken,” Luke waved a hand. He couldn’t keep track anymore, if his parents were together, which cousin was married to which ex of another cousin. He liked the ‘near-distance’ of Chicago. Close if he was needed, but outside the blast radius of every explosion.  
  
“Keeping it from you was just a bonus,” Casey smirked, slapping his shoulder as they entered the conference room. “She’s staying in our guest room, by the way.”  
  
“What? No, she can stay with me,” Luke protested.  
  
“And have her young impressionable mind be subjected to the revolving door of your sex life?” Casey shuddered. “I wouldn’t do that to the poor girl.”  
  
Luke punched his arm but couldn’t really correct him. He’d spent all of his teen years as the chaste, lonely gay boy. Nothing wrong with making up for that now. “I can be discreet.” The look Casey gave him was echoed by at least three other co-workers laughing skeptically. “I can!” he insisted to the entire room.  
  
“Is Snyder telling tales again?” their boss and editor breezed into the room, everyone else unconsciously sitting up taller, at attention. Luke just shrugged lazily instead. Emily shook her head. “Luke, how many more press secretaries of local politicians are going to be calling me today about your editorial?”  
  
He shrugged again. “If I did my job right, at least three.”  
  
She glared (which, to be fair, was her default look) and turned to Casey. “I get anymore, I’m forwarding the calls straight to the legal department.”  
  
Casey nodded, making a note. “I’ll let the gang know, we’ll get an official response drafted by the end of today.” Emily nodded too, continuing the meeting, and Luke somewhat nodded off; he tended to do that when the conversation didn’t involve him.  
  
And he snapped back to reality immediately when she said his name. “Yeah?”  
  
Emily passed a folder of papers over to him. “Your next assignment.”  
  
He opened the folder eagerly. Every time he got a new assignment, he let himself hope.  _This_  would be the one,  _this_  would be the story that pushed him past local Chicago stories and into a bigger scene. Let him stretch as a writer, let him get some real recognition.  
  
And just like every other assignment so far, he got his hopes up for nothing. He looked back up at Emily. “A human interest profile? Seriously?”  
  
“This is my serious face, Snyder,” she answered, both of them ignoring Casey’s snort. “A high profile prostitute-turned-madame, worked everywhere from here to Vegas for the last twenty years, is giving up her very successful career. Think of it as practice for a tell-all memoir.”  
  
“But, but it’s not...” he trailed off. When was Emily going to give him a chance?  
  
“It’s your assignment,” she countered, pointing back at the folder. “There’s the details, or there’s the door. Your choice.”  
  
Luke let himself grumble, just in his head, before picking up the folder again. “Aye-aye, boss,” he kept his voice neutral. Casey managed to roll his eyes in a way that was sympathetic, and Luke just shrugged. It wasn’t like he had much choice.  
  
***  
  
Luke tossed his keys to the side, kicking the door shut behind him. His hands were full of takeout, phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. “I swear, I didn’t know!”  
  
Lily sighed over the connection. “Luke, she just  _left._  A note was on the kitchen table when I got home from work, that’s it.”  
  
“It’s not like I put her up to it, Mom. I was as surprised as you.” He used his elbow to hit the light switch and enter the kitchen, plopping down at the table with his Thai food. Hands finally free, he held his phone, shook his head a little. “You’re acting like it was my idea.”  
  
“It felt familiar,” she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.  
  
He rolled his eyes. “Faith is her own person, you know that. She’s not even staying with me, Maddie and Casey are putting up with her right now.”  
  
“What? Luke, that’s not-”  
  
“And that’ll change tomorrow, when I move her crap into here.” Another eye roll. “She got herself an internship and a place to stay, and got to Chicago by herself, unharmed. She’s almost twenty-two, Mom. Give her a break.”  
  
Lily sighed again. Louder. On purpose. “You’ll keep an eye on her?”  
  
“I promise.”  
  
“And you won’t... corrupt her?”  
  
He almost snapped, even though he knew she didn’t mean it in the way it sounded. It was his  _active_  social life, and not his  _gay_  social life, that his family was concerned about. “Mom. This is Faith we’re talking about. She’s been through high school- boarding school, in fact- and college. Any corrupting’s been done long before now.”  
  
“Just... just...” he could picture her eyes darting around desperately, as if looking for the right words to say. “Set a good example? Please?” She still didn’t like the way he had left Oakdale, that was for damn sure. “And make sure she checks in with us once a week.”  
  
He mustered up a smile, hoping she’d hear it through the phone. “I’ll try.” No promises.  
  
It wasn’t like promises meant much with this family anyway, right?  
  
“Okay,” she relented. “Maybe this will get you to come down for a family dinner some weekend?”  
  
“I’ll try,” he said again, much less convincing this time. He usually had plans on the weekend- David, or Patrick, maybe Justin... Brunch with Maddie and Casey on Sunday mornings, then a late dinner with Patrick or Justin, maybe David...  
  
“What about this weekend?” Lily pressed.  
  
“I don’t know, Mom, I’m working. I just got a new assignment, and I have to set up an interview and...” he trailed off at her very pointed silence. “I’m sorry, okay? But I’m busy. It’s not like when I was nineteen and living at home and whining about having nothing to do. I have a life now.”  
  
“I know, honey, I do. I just miss you sometimes.” she tried again. “Maybe when you get Faith to call and check in, you could do the same.”  
  
And it went on for another ten minutes until Luke could break through the guilt trips to say goodbye and turn his attention to the Thai food.  
  
Was it okay to have a more fulfilling relationship with takeout than with real people? Luke didn’t really want to know the answer.  
  
***  
  
He made sure he was early. It set a good first impression, it gave him the upper hand to initiate the meeting, it gave him the time to get comfortable and know his surroundings. He always made sure to be early for interviews.  
  
Charlene Wilson was even earlier. Luke wanted to glare at her for that out of spite. He lingered in the doorway of the coffeehouse for a minute, studying her. She was a tiny woman, blonde with graying edges, face lined and hard. She seemed to go unnoticed by almost everyone else in the room, but there was a lot of confidence and control in the way she sat, Luke could sense it all the way from the door.  
  
But he still wanted to glare.  
  
Instead he put on his professional smile, walked calmly and surely up to the small table, and held out his hand. “Charlene Wilson? Hi, Luke Snyder.”  
  
She looked up, surprised. “Hello, Luke,” she shook his head and smiled. “Have a seat.”  
  
He used the few seconds it took to sit down and situate himself to regain his control. Charlene’s smile was nothing like the rest of her- soft, sweet, crinkling her eyes and reddening her cheeks. It made her look completely different, almost-  
  
He shook himself. His thoughts didn’t matter. He was a journalist. This was an interview. He pulled out his recorder and set it between them so she could clearly see it. “Thank you for meeting me.”  
  
The smile was gone, the businesswoman back in control. “Not a problem.” She raised her eyebrow at his messenger bag now on the floor. “No note-taking?”  
  
He kept his smile on, ignoring her skeptical tone. He was used to subjects underestimating him. “Today’s just about setting the stage, so to speak. Just so we can both get an idea of each other.” He raised an eyebrow right back at her. “If I’m just sitting here writing things down as you say them, I’m not really listening.” He surprised himself with his honesty when he added, “And some people talk more when I actually listen.”  
  
Charlene laughed, and it reminded him a little of his grandmother. Lucinda had the same no-nonsense tone. “Very good. Smart. Gives the illusion of two friends chatting, and they might reveal more than they intended.”  
  
“That’s usually the plan.” Usually, because Charlene was already on to him. “So to start out, I want to ask two things. Why did you leave your business, and why did you want to be interviewed?”  
  
Charlene toyed with her espresso, but it wasn’t out of nerves; the woman had none, obviously. “Your editor, Emily Stewart?” At Luke’s nod, she continued. “She has a younger sister. A few years ago the girl got mixed up in my industry, Emily and I worked together to get her out of trouble. Depending on who you ask, I owe Emily or Emily owes me for it. She heard through whomever she hears things through that I was retiring, and wanted the story. And here we are.”  
  
Luke nodded again. “You use words like ‘industry’ and ‘retiring’- do you really think of it as a job, like any other?”  
  
Charlene laughed, a little coldly. “Every business has its dirty side, Mr. Snyder. Mine was less obtuse about it.” She was quiet for a moment. “I did think of it that way, for a long time. A very long time.”  
  
“You don’t anymore?”  
  
She didn’t necessarily shake her head, but Luke could sense it in her tone. “A few months ago, one of my girls came to me. Three months pregnant, just found out. She was hysterical, saying her career was over, begging me to tell her- as her boss- to get an abortion.” She twirled her spoon in her cup. “I’m not exactly sure why, but I couldn’t figure out what to do. I just... decided I didn’t want a career like that anymore, with those as my decisions.”  
  
Luke kept quiet, not wanting to spoil her moment or tip the conversation the wrong way. He nodded instead.  
  
She obviously shook herself from the memory, laser-focusing on him again. “I’m still not sure why this is what Emily and I agreed on to settle our debt, but here I am.”  
  
“Okay,” he kept his voice neutral, sensing he had her permission to speak now. “Well, before we get any further, I’ll let you know my plan for our meetings, so you know what to expect.”  
  
She nodded, back to business once again. If she seemed a little grateful for that, Luke didn’t acknowledge it.  
  
“We’ll meet a few times, covering something different each time. You can decide what we talk about, but I reserve the right to ask questions about anything I might be missing to piece it all together. I can tell you now, we’ll probably need to cover a little bit of your childhood and life before this started. Is that okay? Will your family...?” he trailed off, letting her fill in the question herself.  
  
She snorted. “I haven’t had a family for twenty-five years, kid. I’m not worried about scaring them away.”  
  
“Okay.” He made a mental note- where was her family now? “Is there anything you are worried about?”  
  
“You being a bad writer,” she said immediately. He couldn’t tell if she was teasing or not, so he raised an eyebrow and waited. She looked idly around the coffeehouse. “I’m worried about it being all for nothing,” she finally admitted.  
  
“What ‘it’?” he clarified.  
  
“My life, or leaving my life, I’m not sure,” she smiled again. “It’s hard accepting you’re one tiny speck in a universe that doesn’t care about you. I may be worried that recounting my life to an outside view-” she gestured to him, “-is going to prove how wrong I’ve done everything.”  
  
“Wrong?”  
  
She waved the hand that had been pointing at him. “I don’t mean morally, the business. I’ve always known what I was doing there. I was good at it. I’ve made enough money to retire to Fiji and have naked men serve me mojitos all day long if I want. And I may still do that,” she smirked at his contained laugh.  
  
“But you’re not sure if it’s all worth it?” he tried to guess.  
  
She finished her espresso, setting the cup down with a definitive clink of ceramic. “I’m not sure if being that tiny speck is enough. I’ve been fine with my life as I’ve been living it. And now I worry that I’ve been kidding myself.” Another snort. “I picked a hell of a time for a mid-life crisis.”  
  
“You’re worried that I’ll feel sorry for you,” he realized, stupidly blurting it out.  
  
Charlene studied him, eyes piercing. Like she could see everything about him, everything he’d ever done or thought, down to the crayons he stole from Julie Alston’s pencil box in first grade. “Yes,” she finally said with a nod. Unashamed.  
  
He shook his head. “I don’t get involved like that with my work,” he assured, confident again.  
  
Charlene gave that eye-crinkling grin. “Sure.”  
  
“I don’t,” he insisted.  
  
She shook her head. “You’re too young to be this cynical, Luke Snyder.”  
  
“No, I’m not,” he said quietly, calmly. She clearly had never been to Oakdale, Illinois before.  
  
Her piercing look was back, and then she nodded, maybe conceding something. “So. Childhood? Might as well get that out of the way.”  
  
He cleared his throat, pushing his own thoughts to the back of his brain again. “Sure.” He indicated the recorder between them. “Let’s start at the beginning.”  
  
***  
  
He tossed his keys to the side table as soon as he got inside the apartment... and then stopped dead. “What the hell is that smell?”  
  
“It’s dinner,” Faith’s voice wafted out from the kitchen, along with the smell of... real food. Whoa.  
  
“It smells good,” he added, suspicious.  
  
“Jesus Christ, Luke, don’t sound so surprised,” her voice rolled its own eyes, he could hear it. “I know how to cook.”  
  
“Since when?” he sat down at the counter, watching her doing strange (to him) things at the stove he still didn’t really know how to operate.  
  
She gave him a pitying look. “I know it’s a foreign concept to you, but when girls live together in college, they learn how to cook. It’s fun.”  
  
“Yep. Everything about that is a foreign concept,” he agreed. He glanced around, seeing his guest room door open, a suitcase inside. “You’re already moved in?”  
  
“It took like ten minutes to get everything from Casey’s car to the room,” she said. “It took longer to get to the grocery store and back for food.” She put a plate in front of him and joined him at the counter. “Seriously, all you had was milk and Ben and Jerry’s.”  
  
“Hey, there’s cheese in there too!” he argued.  
  
She glared, scolding. “It was green and moving on its own. Ew.”  
  
“Fine, okay, so I like takeout. I’m usually only here for like an hour before I go out anyway, what’s the big deal?”  
  
Faith shook her head dramatically. “You’re in danger of becoming a bad cliche, Luke. It’s so sad.”  
  
“Hey, I am a brag-worthy cool older brother,” he held up a hand, ticking off his fingers. “I live in the big city, awesome apartment, fun job, I’m gay, I’m pretty, all your friends are probably jeal-”  
  
“Oh God,” she groaned. “I worked so hard on this food, Luke. Don’t make me dump it on your head.”  
  
He grinned, digging in. It was really good. “Did you let Mom know you’re here and moved in?” he asked after they were almost done.  
  
She shrugged. “I sent her a text.”  
  
He should scold her, tell her to call, but he’d probably do the same thing in her shoes. “Okay.”  
  
“Did you meet with the madame today? Was it cool?” Faith neatly changed the subject.  
  
And he let her. “We’ll see. She’s... interesting.” He shook his head. “I just wish Emily would give me a chance to do something real. Something big.” He got up, clapping his hands together to interrupt whatever Faith was about to sass him with. “Are you okay here for awhile? I’m going to head out soon.”  
  
Faith laughed at him. “Like I said, cliche.”  
  
“And what does that have to do with anything else in the universe?” he kept his cool, mostly.  
  
“Maybe being more settled in your personal life will help you get settled in your professional one,” she barely batted an eyelash at his glare, taking her plate to the dishwasher.  
  
Luke took a slow, deep breath. “As much as I love getting life lessons from a twenty-one-year-old, I’ll pass.”  
  
Faith just rolled her eyes, undeterred. “I don’t know everything, sure, but I know you. This can’t be enough for you.”  
  
He brought his own plate over. “You’re my little sister. I love you. I’m letting you stay here rent-free,” he pointed out to another eye roll. “But you have to get this, Faith. There’s no reason for me to ‘settle down.’ I don’t... no one’s given me a reason to.”  
  
And that, to him, was a pretty clear sign.  
  
***  
  
“Okay,” Luke set the recorder back down on the table, now with fresh batteries. “Sorry about that.” He gestured for Charlene to continue. “So it wasn’t your plan to end up in this industry.”  
  
She smiled tightly. “It usually isn’t.” A movement that wasn’t a shrug but meant the same thing, and she continued. “I had a life I didn’t love. It was killing me, slowly. So I ran. This was where I was when I couldn’t run anymore.”  
  
“What kind of life?” he asked quietly.  
  
She was surprisingly straightforward and calm then; this was something she had long ago accepted. “My husband was abusive. Emotionally, physically, all of it. He was career Army, he had a strange idea of right and wrong and a woman’s place in the world.” She shook her head. “We disagreed on that.”  
  
“You left him?”  
  
“He threw me out,” she twisted her lips into a mock-smile. “But I guess one could argue I’d already left, in some ways. I’d started seeing another man whenever he was gone for a weekend, which was often. He caught us and...” she gestured at nothing, meaning nothing. “He made me leave them. It was for the best. I thought.”  
  
“Leave ‘them’?” Luke sat forward a little. His reporter-spidey-sense was tingling.  
  
“My son,” her eyes were cast down at the table, finger tracing a chip in the wooden tabletop. “He was, hmm, three? He’s probably your age now.”  
  
“Probably?” Luke couldn’t help but ask, forgetting to shut up and listen. “You don’t know? You didn’t, I don’t know, keep in contact with him, check up on him?”  
  
She shook her head. “I didn’t want to at first, I just wanted to get away. And then I tried, but Winston, my- his father, wouldn’t allow it. Kept him away from me. I found out a few years ago that he’d told our son that I died all those years ago. And...” she let out a half-desperate laugh. “I wasn’t as composed and intelligent I am now, Mr. Snyder. I was angry and free for the first time since I was nineteen. I wanted to forget I ever had a family. So I did.”  
  
“But later? You never wrote a letter, or-”  
  
“Winston was military. They moved around so often, I couldn’t keep track. And you know, part of me thought it was better this way. It’s not like I’d be a good mother.”  
  
“But-” he stopped himself.  _Not the point of the article, Snyder. Stop projecting._  “How do you know what happened after you left? That they moved, that your ex-husband lied about your death?”  
  
She snorted inelegantly, the most off-kilter she’d acted yet, and pulled up the sleeve of her sweater. On her upper arm, maybe an inch or two above her elbow, was a long scar. A bullet wound. “A few years ago we... ran into each other.”  
  
Luke stared at the scar. “What?”  
  
“He found me at the hotel I was working out of. I’m still not sure how. He had it in his head that I was trying to reconnect with our son, steal him away or something. Which was ridiculous, I didn’t even know where Noah-” she stopped for a brief moment, as though letting the name sink in with her own thoughts. “-where he was. I still don’t.”  
  
Luke didn’t react to her revealing the son’s name, but he did quickly scribble the letter ‘N’ into his notes. And, to make sure he didn’t forget, drew a little ark underneath. “Your ex-husband shot you?” he steered the conversation back.  
  
She rolled her sleeve back down with a laugh, an angry one this time. “He tried. We fought, nearly killed each other.” Off Luke’s wide eyes, she gave a real smile, shark-like again. “I’d been in the business a long time by that point. You think I didn’t owned a gun or two for protection?”  
  
“You shot him?” Luke was a seasoned reporter, this didn’t shock him. It didn’t. Not normally, at least. He was getting too caught up in this story, it wasn’t like him.  
  
“I tried,” she was grim, but... she was proud too. “He got me first.”  
  
“In the arm,” Luke added, not even bothering to write this down.  
  
“In the stomach,” she corrected. “Then the arm.” Off his look, “I wasn’t about to lift my shirt up to you, kid. One scar is enough for the story, right?”  
  
“He tried to kill you. Why?”  
  
“I told you, he thought I was trying to take our son-  _his_  son- away from him. Corrupt him. He claimed I had started poisoning him already,” she shook her head. “I don’t know what the kid had done to drive Winston to that level of crazy, but it must’ve been...” she stopped, shook her head again.  
  
“So he shot you,” Luke circled the ‘N’ again.  
  
“He did. I got him one in the leg when he tried to leave, by that time people heard the shots, grabbed him.” She smiled, as though these were fond memories. “Small blessing that he tried to kill me again at the hospital. Cops kind of had to believe my story after that. It was a quick trial, and he’s been in prison ever since. So, one less thing to worry about in my life.”  
  
“But one more thing, too,” Luke pointed out carefully. “What about your son?”  
  
She remained nonchalant. “He was eighteen when that happened. The courts couldn’t force him to be involved or force guardianship or anything. He wasn’t at the trial. For all I know he went into the Army like his father, or college, or a traveling circus, I don’t know. None of my business.”  
  
 _None of your business?_  he wanted to question. But he didn’t. This wasn’t the story. It wasn’t.  
  
He circled the letter again.  
  
***  
  
“It’s not, um, not much to go on,” Hunter stammered, booting up his second of four laptops that were scattered around his cubicle. “Not even last names?”  
  
“Just her maiden name,” Luke shrugged.  
  
“Still,” Casey perched, unbidden, on the edge of Hunter’s desk. “If the story did happen like she said, there’d have to be some records of the court case online. Not to mention press coverage. It’s kinda sensational, the things news-media goes nuts for.”  
  
“Do you think this paper covered it?” Luke mused.  
  
Hunter’s fingers were already flying across his keyboard. “Probably. Good idea. I’ll check our database first.” He was always less stuttery when he had a computer in front of him.  
  
“You don’t have anything else to go on? Addresses or anything?” Casey pointed to the notebook in Luke’s lap. Not that he’d seen inside it. Luke didn’t let anyone read his notes. “Just the son’s name?”  
  
“We don’t even know if Noah kept his last name,” Luke replied absentmindedly, looking over Hunter’s shoulder as he worked.  
  
“Already on a first name basis with the guy?” Casey teased, unfazed by Luke’s glare.  
  
“Got something!” Hunter cut off Luke’s snark back to Casey. “Charlene Wilson, right?” he tapped a few more keys, and the printer next to him started spitting out papers. “Almost ten years ago?”  
  
“Yeah,” Luke grabbed the papers eagerly. Charlene Wilson and Winston Mayer. Luke had a last name. He jotted it down next to the ‘N’.  
  
N Mayer.  
  
“Anything about the son?” Casey gave up teasing, knowing where Luke’s head was at.  
  
“Not in the article, no,” he frowned. “I know this is probably stupid, but can you Google ‘Noah Mayer’, Hunter?”  
  
“I’m learning so much,” Faith was suddenly at the doorway, one eyebrow raised. “All I need to be an ace reporter is Google. Who’d have thought?”  
  
“Shut up, brat,” Luke threw back without much heat or thought- it was really just an older brother instinct. “What do you want?”  
  
“I’m done with all my internly duties, figured I’d come bug you,” she shrugged. “Is this for your interview? Did you find her son?”  
  
“Not y-”  
  
“Found him!” Hunter cut in without realizing. “I think. I mean it might not be- but I think it’s-” He turned, and spotted Faith for the first time. “Oh. Hi. Um.” He frequently ended sentences with ‘um’.  
  
“Hunter, my sister Faith. She’s interning here for awhile,” Luke gestured back and forth between them. “Faith, this is Hunter, our IT-slash-research guy.”  
  
Faith waved. “Hi.” She came closer, but all her focus was on the papers in Luke’s hand. “So you found the long-lost son?”  
  
Hunter was silent and staring at Faith for a moment, but a nudge from Casey got him back on track. “Yeah, uh, yeah I think. A couple different Noah Mayers popped up in a blanket search, but narrowing the parameters...” he printed out a few more papers and handed them to Luke. Faith and Casey crowded around behind him. “He fits the age, he lives nearby, it makes sense.”  
  
“What do we know about him?” Luke asked, flipping through the papers. “And are you sure? This is just an ad in the classifieds. It’s not even-”  
  
“I looked him up through the phone number and email in the ad,” Hunter talked over him. “Noah Brandon Mayer. Age twenty-seven. Born on a military base in Georgia- that would fit with your story, right?” He didn’t wait for Luke to answer, he rarely did. “Next record I found was him attending Columbia University on scholarships in 2007-”  
  
“Columbia? New York?” Faith asked, voice wistful. Luke had to smile; both he and Faith had at one time dreamed of going there for college. _If you had, you’d have been there at the same time as Noah_ , his brain whispered. Interesting.  
  
“He popped up around here a few years ago, started a photography studio outside Morris, Illinois.”  
  
“That’s like an hour from here,” Casey said.  
  
“He placed an ad in local papers and online, looking for an assistant for his studio,” Hunter pointed back to the top paper in the pile. “He does freelance and some original stuff, he’s making a name for himself in the industry, apparently. Looks like he needs an assistant to help with the extra work he’s been getting.”  
  
“You got all that from a couple minutes on Google?” Faith raised her eyebrows. “Wow. Awesome.”  
  
As Hunter sputtered over the compliment, knocking over his coffee mug (decaf, they all hoped), Luke mulled over the papers in his lap. He should look over the articles about Charlene and Winston’s trial. He should research Winston Mayer further.  
  
He looked at the ad again.  
  
And then turned to Faith. “You up for a road trip tomorrow?”  
  
***  
  
It was barely an hour drive outside the city, if that. Faith wondered if it was actually supposed to be an hour, but Luke’s ‘the speed limit is a limit on how slow you can go’ driving got them there a little sooner. The GPS took them through a small, picturesque town- one that reminded them both uncomfortably of Oakdale. The GPS voice gave them a surprising “Turn Left”- the road was barely visible, cutting through a thick patch of trees.  
  
“How can this legally be a road?” Luke grumbled, fighting to keep his car from going off-road accidentally. At least he was finally going slowly. Faith smirked, knowing he was mentally tallying up the detail work he’d have to pay for to make it all pretty again.  
  
“I don’t think it is,” she pointed back behind them. “There was a mailbox at the turn. This is a driveway.”  
  
Luke pursed his lips. “Nice observational skills, Ace.” She wasn’t sure sure whether to be pleased at the compliment or indignant at the teasing. He continued before she could decide. “Still, it’s too narrow for a driveway, then. One car barely fits, let alone two.”  
  
“Maybe that’s the way he wants it,” she murmured. The place didn’t strike her as a ‘coming and going’ party spot. It was beautiful, the trees giving way to a small brook winding downhill, but it definitely wasn’t... crowded.  
  
Luke tilted his head, conceding that too. Finally, the forest broke completely into a clearing, and two small buildings appeared. The house was simple and tiny but well kept, and a large... shed? it was almost as big as the house... beyond it was in even better condition. Its door was open, and even as Luke parked the car, a tall figure emerged from it, wiping his hands on a rag, a pair of glasses pushed up to rest in his hair.  
  
Faith took one look at him and turned to Luke immediately. “Please dear God, don’t hit on him.”  
  
“What?” Luke sounded outraged, but his eyes hadn’t left the figure. This had to be Noah. Faith couldn’t see much that connected him to Charlene, she was apparently petite and blonde, this guy was most definitely tall-dark-and-wow, but it had to be him.  
  
Nobody else would be here.  
  
Luke opened the car door. “Stay here, don’t let him see you. We don’t want to tip him off.”  
  
Faith gave a mock salute, but rolled her window down just a little, enough to listen in. It wasn’t eavesdropping, it was gathering intel as a reporter, right? And if she scooted down enough in her seat, she could just make out their reflections in the sideview mirror. Perfect. For, you know, investigating.  
  
“Excuse me,” Luke called out, already exuding confidence and charm. “Hi, are you Noah Mayer?”  
  
Noah stopped in his tracks, almost dropping the rag in his hands. He stared at Luke for a second, his face going from shrewd to carefully blank from what Faith could see. “Can I help you?”  
  
His voice was deep, a little too strong to be considered soft-spoken, and very very even. No bite to it, but no warmth either.  
  
Luke waved cheerily, undeterred. “My name is Luke, I’m here to talk about your assistant position? I saw your ad.” He held out his hand.  
  
Noah didn’t shake it, quirking up an eyebrow instead, studying him. “Really.” Still no inflection, which turned what should’ve been a question into what sounded like the driest, most skeptical word ever uttered by man.  
  
Faith rolled her eyes a little, knowing Luke was going to try to turn up the charm even more. “Of course!” She could picture him brightening his smile, widening his eyes just a little, going for doe-eyed and sincere. She’d seen him pick up guys off that look alone.  
  
Noah, apparently, was immune. “Why?” There was a little bit of challenge, a little bit of curiosity in it. One word. He still hadn’t moved from his position, and Faith was seriously starting to wonder what was wrong with this guy.  
  
Maybe Luke was too. “I’m a big admirer of your work, and photography has always been a passion of mine. I want to work with someone in a close, hands on way. You know, do it right, from the ground up. Not some big, soulless company. Somewhere I can grow.”  
  
Faith really thought lying was imprinted in their genetic code. It had to be. Unfortunately, bigger-picture thinking wasn’t. Because Noah snorted, turning away. “Uh-huh. Bye then.”  
  
“What?” Luke sounded genuinely shocked.  
  
Noah turned back to give him a very pointed, suspicious look. “Your shoes cost more than my entire outfit. You drive up in a fancy sports car- which is yours, no temporary or rental tags- didn’t call ahead, acting like you’re starting your first job? You’re my age. No way are you wanting to start ‘from the ground up’ anywhere.”  
  
 _Good observational skills,_  Faith smirked. Luke still tried to protest.  
  
Noah waved it away. “I don’t know what your angle is, and I don’t care. Please get off my property before I make you.”  
  
“But-” Luke was probably giving the puppy eyes now, Faith would bet the cost of his fancy sports car on that.  
  
Noah gestured to Luke’s car, and Faith hunkered down ever more, just in case. “I have a shotgun I can always use, but it’d be better for both of us if you just left.”  
  
Luke was silent for a second, then held up his hands, placating. “Fine, fine. Your loss. Have fun writing your Unabomber letters all alone.” Faith shook her head ruefully. He’d never been good at not getting what he wanted. "Just don't think-"  
  
Noah shook his head too, cutting Luke off. “Tell Mommy and Daddy you tried, maybe they’ll get you another car to make you feel better.” Then he was back inside the shed, door slamming shut.  
  
Faith kept a straight face as a silent and fuming Luke climbed back into the car. She kept it through the treacherous ride back down the driveway, back onto the road, back through the little town. GPS Voice Lady got them back on the highway, and then she burst out laughing.  
  
“Shut up,” Luke warned, almost a growl.  
  
“How much  _do_  your shoes cost?” she asked.  
  
“Shut. Up.”  
  
“I don’t think he’s going to prom with you,” she teased.  
  
“I don’t think he’s worth an interview either,” he said. “It’s a dead end. Guy’s a robot. Might not even be Charlene’s son. For all we know-”  
  
“You know he is,” Faith pointed out, quieter.  
  
There was a pause while Luke probably sighed in his head. “Yeah. He is.”  
  
“But it’s a dead end?”  
  
“Dead end. I’m not interviewing an emotionless robot,” he half-growled again.  
  
Faith waited through a few more minutes of silence before speaking up again. “He’s hot, though.”  
  
“I will throw you out of this car.”  
  
***  
  
Noah shut the door a little harder than necessary, as though the extra force behind it would get the annoying guy (Luke) away from his home faster. God, please don’t let that stupid car get stuck in the driveway. Noah just wanted him gone.  
  
He peered out one of the shades, watching, waiting for the car to disappear. He cracked the door open then, listening, until he couldn’t hear the crunch of gravel anymore. Good. Gone.  
  
Back out in the yard, he finished wiping off his hands and sat on his front steps, leaving the rag on the stair railing and drinking in the quiet until he felt centered again. It wasn’t just the fancy, out of place stuff and the lying, there was something else unsettling about that guy.  
  
Maybe it was the fact that he was... Noah was rarely attracted to someone on sight. His infuriatingly perfect hair and wide eyes and skin so-  
  
But then he’d opened his mouth. And Noah felt better about kicking him out.  
  
A cold, wet nose suddenly poked out between the wooden steps, prodding his legs. Noah jumped, then sighed. “Some guard dog you are,” he admonished. Napoleon just snuffled, maybe an apology, maybe an exasperated sigh, and got himself up and out from under the steps. He stood in front of Noah expectantly, tail wagging a little.  
  
Noah raised his eyebrow again. “It’s lunchtime already?” Napoleon stomped his two front feet, a rumble of a whine as his answer. Noah checked his watch. Oh. He’d been in the darkroom a few hours longer than he’d thought. “Okay okay, buddy, you’re right. Lunchtime.”  
  
Napoleon panted, quick and happy, and clambered up the steps as fast as his old legs would let him, passing Noah, trying to nudge the door open.  
  
Noah smiled, twisting the knob, and the two of them headed to the kitchen. Noah got their food ready, rubbing the top of Napoleon’s head when the dog leaned into his leg as he worked. See? he told himself. Maybe he didn’t really need an assistant.  
  
Maybe he didn’t really need anybody.  
  
***  
  
“So that’s your proposed angle?” Emily eyed him, narrowed and skeptical. “Really? The ex-husband?”  
  
Luke kept his cool, despite wishing the rest of the staff (and interns, thanks) weren’t in the room. “He’s dishonorably discharged from the military, been in prison for the last nine years. He’s gotten into altercations that suggest racist and homophobic tendencies-” not so much ‘suggested’ as  _’screamed’_ , “-And, you know, with all the national coverage veterans have been getting lately-”  
  
“This would just be white noise in the background,” she finished for him. “There’s no story or hook to it, Snyder. Nothing fresh. What else do you have? What happened with the son?”  
  
He sputtered. “What- how did you-” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Hunter go red and try to sink down lower in his chair. “Damn it, Hunter, why would you-”  
  
“I thought it was an off the record conversation,” he mumbled.  
  
“No conversation with your mother is off the record,” Luke snapped before turning back to the mother in question. “The son was a dead end. He wasn’t cooperative, he has nothing new to contribute. He hasn’t even seen her since he was three.”  
  
“And you don’t think bringing them back together would be a good story?” Emily raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Try answering the ad again. Take a week and set up shop in town, see what you can find out about him.”  
  
“He kicked me off the property,” Luke pointed out, good-naturedly flipping off the coworkers who laughed at that (including Casey). “How am I supposed to-”  
  
“Have Other Snyder do it then,” Emily nodded to Faith, sitting in the back of the room. “Maybe he’ll be more receptive to a pretty girl showing up at his doorstep.”  
  
Faith looked startled, and Luke felt the same way. “Wait, you’re serious? You want me to-”  
  
“And take Hunter, too,” she waved him silent. “He can help with the research you inevitably won’t want to do.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“All right, moving on,” Emily cut him off again with a clap of her hands. “What’s next?”  
  
Luke quietly seethed, then planned, then pouted until the meeting was over. Ignoring Casey’s grin, he headed over to Faith, who was waiting for him expectantly. “So.”  
  
“Yeah,” Luke sighed, sitting down next to her. “Are you cool with doing this?”  
  
“You mean getting pimped out to the emotionless robot?” she confirmed. “I- I don’t know. But Emily’s right, it’s the better story. And I want to help, Luke.”  
  
He sighed again, sagging down a little more into the chair, bumping his shoulder into hers. “You, me, Hunter, and the robot. What could possibly go wrong?”  
  
***  
  
Faith decided if she was going to do this, she’d do it right. The day before they left Chicago, she emailed the address from the ad, asking for an interview. A few hours later Noah emailed her back, giving her his home address and a time to come by. So far so good.  
  
They drove out in the morning, finding a motel in that little town, booking two rooms for the week. After that, Faith could keep her room while Luke and Hunter could drive in as needed. For the time being, Faith took Hunter’s car, an old beat-up thing, and drove to Noah’s house again, by herself.  
  
She got through the treacherous driveway and parked next to an old pickup truck she hadn’t noticed last time. She took a deep breath as she got out, calming herself (trying to), clutching her Interview Folder tightly in her hands. She’d done a few interviews since graduation and hadn’t gotten any jobs out of them- what if the same thing happened here? She’d still be unemployed, and Luke wouldn’t get his story.  
  
Double pressure.  
  
She eyed the giant shed-building-thing again, but headed for the house first. And then stopped in her tracks.  
  
A huge... okay, it was a dog- a bloodhound- but it looked part horse, and it was lying at the top of the steps to the house, watching her with large and lazy eyes. Its two front legs were stretched out, paws resting a few steps below the rest of his body. Faith didn’t know whether to be nervous or laugh. “Hi?” she said tentatively. The dog raised its head but didn’t move otherwise. “Okay. Um-”  
  
“He’s not dangerous,” a voice spoke up behind her. She whirled around to see Noah emerge from the shed-building-thing, his t-shirt and jeans were stained with paint and chemicals. “You could do a slow crawl and probably still beat him in a foot race.”  
  
She smiled politely. “He’s... big.”  
  
“Gentle giant,” he assured, offering a similar smile. “You must be Faith?”  
  
Not quite a robot this time. Interesting. “Yes. Hi. And you’re Noah?”  
  
He nodded, shaking her hand. “It’s kind of impossible to move Napoleon if he doesn’t want to be moved, so why don’t we do this in the studio,” he beckoned for her to follow him back inside behind him.  
  
Ah. So. Not a shed- it was his studio. She followed him in nervously and had to force herself not to stare once the door closed behind her.  
  
The inside was  _way_  different from the outside appearance. Warm colors everywhere, comfy-looking couches and chairs and pillows (and an obviously well-loved doggy bed) scattered throughout, it was instantly homey and... happy. There was a small office setup to the side with an ancient looking computer, and a door that probably led to his lab and darkroom at the other end.  
  
And photographs everywhere. Some framed, some hung from clotheslines strung from the ceilings, albums on every surface. Black and whites, colors, portraits and landscapes... they were everywhere. “Wow. You take a lot.”  
  
Noah almost smiled again. “Kinda goes with the job.” He sat on one of the couches, gesturing for her to join him. “Sorry I’m not more presentable, but I’m in the middle of a project, and...” he shrugged.  
  
“It’s okay,” she immediately replied, noticing for the first time that he was barefoot, the bottoms of his jeans frayed and ripped. “Totally understand.”  
  
He nodded. “So, based on your email and resumé, you’re the most qualified person who’s applied so far. You studied photography in college?”  
  
She nodded too. At least this wouldn’t be a lie. “A few classes a year, yeah. Mostly photojournalism, one or two artsy classes,” she handed over the Interview Folder Hunter had helped her craft together. Another copy of her resumé, some photos she had taken in college, a letter of recommendation from one of her teachers she’d held onto after graduation. All things that hadn’t helped her get a ‘real’ job, but maybe here...  
  
Noah looked at her photos, studying each one intently, not even reacting when the studio’s door was pushed open and the bloodhound ambled in, sitting at his feet and resting his head on Noah’s thigh, still eyeing Faith. She smiled a little when Noah unconsciously started petting the dog and it rumbled happily, closing its eyes. “These are really nice,” Noah finally said.  
  
“Really?” Faith couldn’t help but ask, disbelieving.  
  
Noah’s smile was crooked, almost gentle. “Yeah. A little rough around the edges maybe, but you have a natural eye for it.” He carefully set the folder aside. “So. Why here?”  
  
“Here?” Faith repeated, biding a little time. This is what had given Luke away. She couldn’t afford to tip him off the same way.  
  
Noah sat back a little, ignoring the dog’s whine when he stopped petting. “Why here, why not Chicago? Or, I don’t know, even Bloomington would have more studios than here. Why did you answer my ad?”  
  
Faith hesitated for a second, and then thought of her Grandmother.  _’In business, the best lies are also the truth.’_  “Because I don’t know what I want,” she answered. “I didn’t graduate college and magically know what to do. Chicago is great, but... big. I’d get lost and never figure it out. Maybe I need some place quiet and- and real, to figure it all out.”  
  
Noah studied her for a minute, and then smiled genuinely. Faith felt herself blush from neck to ears. It was a  _really_  nice smile. “Hate to be the one to break it to you, but you’ll probably never figure  _all_  of it out,” he said.  
  
“I can try,” she said, mock-stubborn. He was teasing her. The robot was teasing her.  
  
He almost kind of laughed. Almost. In a way. “I can’t guarantee you’ll figure much out working here,” he cautioned, serious again. “I’ll teach you what I do and anything else you’re willing to learn, but I mostly placed the ad because I need help with that.” He pointed to the computer, his tone reminding her of Grandma Emma whenever she talked about ‘store-bought’ food.  
  
“The computer?” she clarified.  
  
He nodded, fidgeting. “I’ve been getting more orders and commissions lately, too much for me to keep up with. I need help getting it all online and keeping track of it. I’m, uh, not really good with that stuff, but almost everyone insists on doing business that way now.” He almost sounded embarrassed, whether by the fact that he wasn’t good at computers or was getting a lot of work, she wasn’t sure.  
  
“What kind of photography do you do?” she asked.  
  
He glanced around. “A little of everything,” he shrugged. “Not as much with portraits, the sit down and smile kind, at least. I don’t like doing planned out shots, and people can be..” his mouth twisted for a second. “I’m not really good at dealing with people. But everything else, fine. I’m better with people when they don’t know I’m there.”  
  
He tapped Napoleon on the head twice, and the dog reluctantly stood up and headed to his doggy bed, grabbing a chew toy on the way with a pointed huff. Faith was distracted enough by the sight that she almost missed Noah’s words. Almost.  
  
He continued, standing up. “Anyway, I can show you the darkroom if you’d like, if you’re still interested?” he looked to her, suddenly unsure.  
  
Luckily, she was very sure of some things. “Yeah, that’d be great.”  
  
“Okay,” he looked surprised and... relieved? Because she hadn’t left? Faith wondered, but she was surprised now too. Intrigued. He was a very confusing guy.  
  
He definitely wasn’t a robot.  
  
They finished the tour at the steps to the little house, Napoleon having followed them the whole way, leaning into Noah’s legs whenever they stopped for Noah to explain something. It almost felt like the dog was doing it on purpose, reminding Faith that Noah was his and under his protection. She half wanted to grin, half wanted to find some peace offering for the dog.  
  
Noah invited her into the house with the promise of a drink, and she would’ve laughed (again) under any other circumstance- it should’ve sounded date-like or creepy but from Noah it was genuine, if cautious. A little awkward.  
  
The house wasn’t quite as warm and lived-in as the studio, but having spent more than five minutes with Noah, she wasn’t all that surprised. There were more dog toys than personal effects lying around, and a lot more photographs... though none of them were of people. None of Noah, none of friends or family. She made a note, but didn’t comment.  
  
The kitchen was well-stocked, but she also noticed that there wasn’t any alcohol anywhere. Also interesting, and also made the drink invite even less creepy. Good.  
  
And even better, when she sat at the kitchen table, Napoleon shuffled over, sniffed her hands for a second, and then plopped down at her feet, looking up expectantly. She laughed a little and started petting.  
  
“See? Old softie. He just takes a little while to warm up to strangers,” Noah said, setting a glass in front of her, small smile in place.  
  
 _Like some people,_  she thought. But out loud, what came out of her mouth was, “Wasn’t Napoleon the name of the bloodhound in  _The Aristocats_?”  
  
And then she learned that Noah could blush. A lot. His polite smile turned shy, caught, and Faith felt her knees go a little weak, even if she couldn't help but feel triumphant. Ha. “Yeah, well, it might’ve been on TV or something when he showed up,” he mumbled.  
  
Faith was still grinning when she got back to the motel, letting herself into the room Luke and Hunter were sharing. Hunter was at his computer, headphones in, typing away, but Luke scooted over on his bed to let her sit next to him and steal some of his leftover french fries from lunch.  
  
“Well?” he prompted.  
  
She was still smiling. “I’m in.”


	2. Chapter 2

“So you just let your little sister walk onto this strange guy’s compound, by herself?” Casey sounded very confused, as though unsure if he should be outraged or not.  
  
“It’s not a compound,” Luke rolled his eyes, switching his phone to the other ear. “The guy’s not a cult leader, just... a loner, or something.”  
  
“He lives alone and spends all his time taking lots of photos of things. That’s exactly two of the four major requirements for being a psycho, I hope you know.”  
  
“I don’t know, maybe he’s just shy,” Maddie piped up over the line, obviously on Casey’s speakerphone. “Or something- hell, he had no mother and a crazy-scary father, maybe he just doesn’t trust people.”  
  
“Which brings me back to my point of Luke letting his little sister go in there alone,” Casey said again.  
  
Luke shook his head as though they could see him. “I’ve already been there, remember? The guy isn’t psycho. Rude, socially inept, arrogant, but not psycho. And Faith is totally fine, she wasn’t weirded out or anything. I think she  _likes_  him,” he couldn’t help but get incredulous at that. Just because the guy looked good- okay, really really good- didn’t mean-  
  
“So the guy who kicked you out in five minutes actually held a real conversation with Faith? Hired her?” Maddie’s tone held that special Maddieness to it that could only mean a ‘you know I love you but’ lecture was about to start.  
  
“Please get your point across quickly,” he groaned, settling into a comfortable position. Maddie gave him one of these almost every week.  
  
So he was surprised when it was Casey who spoke up first. “Maybe if you didn’t give off that vibe, maybe-”  
  
“What vibe?” he felt his hackles start to rise.  
  
“Luke,” Maddie sighed. “You know I love you, but you don’t exactly exude... closeness, with people. A willingness for intimacy.”  
  
“Oh my God, what are you talking about?” Luke rubbed at his forehead. “I’m supposed to be intimate with the supposed psycho?”  
  
“We didn’t mean that!” Maddie protested. “You just make it hard sometimes for people who don’t already know you to get  _close_  to you. It’s probably why the guy didn’t believe you, and why you’ve had nothing but one night stands for years.”  
  
“Oh God,” he groaned again. He really didn’t need this. “Did Faith put you up to this? There’s nothing wrong with my personal life, guys. I appreciate the concern-” he actually didn’t “-but I’m fine. Better than fine.”  
  
“Luke,” Casey’s voice was surprisingly quiet. “You’re really happy with the way things are? Really?”  
  
He sputtered, trying to get the higher ground back. “How did this go from talking about work to questioning my abilities as an older brother to solidifying my status as some emotionally closed-off manwhore?”  
  
“Whoa, whoa, we never said that,” Casey argued immediately, sternly. “And we never would. Don’t even try that shit, Snyder. We just think maybe you should-”  
  
“If the words ‘settle’ and ‘down’ come out of your mouth, I’m hanging up right now.”  
  
“You never answered Casey’s question,” Maddie pointed out. “Look hon, I know things in Oakdale didn’t end... nicely, but that’s no reason to-”  
  
Thank every god made up and real that Faith and Hunter walked in then with bags and bags of takeout. Hunter was babbling a mile a minute, Faith trying to look like she was interested. “Hey, my team’s back, I gotta go.”  
  
“Luke-” Maddie and Casey said it at nearly the same time, nearly the same sad way.  
  
“Later guys, bye,” he hung up before he had to hear where that was going.  
  
Faith glanced at him the second he hung up. “Who was that?”  
  
Luke couldn’t help but glare a little, somehow he always reverted back to being sixteen around her. “Your compatriots in arms, apparently.”  
  
She also became sixteen, rolling her eyes impressively. “Maddie and Casey?” She handed him one of the takeout containers, sitting next to him on the bed. Hunter, who had been making room for her to sit on his bed, hung his head and dug into his own dinner. “What did they do that’s got you pouting?”  
  
He didn’t argue that he wasn’t pouting- not the point right now. Plus, he was hungry. “Apparently I’m a bad brother and a slut.”  
  
They both ignored Hunter choking on his food. “What? I never said anything close to that Luke, I swear.” She shook her head. “How are you a bad brother?”  
  
“I let you go into the psycho’s compound alone.” He had argued it with Casey, but now, maybe a little, he was worried it was true. What would Holden say?  
  
“Noah’s not a psycho,” she said immediately, firmly.  
  
“But he’s a stranger. And he’s like three feet taller than you. I don’t know, I-”  
  
“He’s harmless,” she insisted. Then she smiled, thinking of something he couldn’t figure out. “Gentle giant.”  
  
He eyed her. “Wait.  _You’re_  not going to flirt with him, are you?”  
  
“Luke!” she smacked his arm. “A, that wouldn’t be professional. B, I got zero interest from him, I could tell. C, he seems like his work is his life. D, don’t change the subject. Casey and Maddie called you a slut?”  
  
They ignored Hunter choking again. “They... insinuated. That I wasn’t letting myself be open to an actual relationship. I give off a non-intimate vibe, like a-”  
  
“Like a robot?” Faith raised an eyebrow.  
  
His turn to smack her. “Wow, thanks.” Changing the subject, a little because he was the big brother and he could, mostly because he didn’t want Faith to confirm the fear that there was something wrong with him, ( _Haven’t enough things already proved that, Snyder? Isn’t that why you left Oakdale?_ ), “So, nervous about tomorrow?”  
  
She shrugged. “A little. I just hope I don’t, like, screw up all his photos or something. Or get something wrong, or-”  
  
“Whoa, wait, are you more nervous about your fake job or your real job?”  
  
She started, surprised. “Aren’t they both real jobs?”  
  
Before he could answer, Hunter spoke up. “If you’re nervous about not knowing stuff, I could, you- you could text me and I can, you know, tell you.”  
  
Faith leaned across Luke to look at Hunter. “Really? You know stuff about photography and putting a business online and all that?”  
  
He blushed. “No. But I could look it up,” he pointed to his laptop. “And text you back.”  
  
“Oh,” Faith blinked, surprised. “Cool. Thanks, Hunter. I’ll get your number before I leave tomorrow.” Hunter probably meant to reply with actual words, but it was lost between stammers.  
  
Luke grinned to himself-  _that’s an interesting development_ \- before focusing back on his sister. “Okay, just remember you don’t need to get everything out of him in one day. Get him to trust you a little first, maybe talk about yourself some, get him to reciprocate.”  
  
She nodded. “Okay. Yeah. I can do this.”  
  
He let himself smile outwardly now. He was getting his story and helping his sister at the same time. And maybe helping Hunter get a date... Everybody wins, right?  
  
***  
  
“You, uh, okay over there?” Noah’s voice was tentative and just this side of teasing.  
  
Faith glared. “No. Not okay.” She tried to lessen the glare, she really did, but it wasn’t happening. “I have no idea what to do about this.” Day Three working with Noah, and she’d run into this problem every single day.  
  
He came fully into the studio, rolling up his sleeves as he moved. “Hey big guy, I think it’s time to give your new best friend a break, okay?” As though he understood perfectly, Napoleon sighed. But, thankfully, the old dog stood up from his sprawled position across Faith’s legs and feet and loped over to Noah on the oversized couch. Faith watched out of the corner of her eye as the two flopped down together, Napoleon taking up twice as much space, head in Noah’s lap. Noah put his glasses on to flip through a set of photos he’d brought in.  
  
Her legs free, Faith could finally go back to her task, sifting through printed-out emails for job requests Noah might be interested in. Throwing away spam emails, setting aside portrait and wedding requests in their own pile (knowing he’d turn them down), she tried to find ones he would want to accept.  
  
And then she came across something different. “Who’s Ameera?” she asked, holding up a paper. The message was short and... weird.  _Hello, Noah. It’s that time of year again. Requesting your presence (and camera), please come. Let me know, akhi. --Ameera_  
  
Noah didn’t react too much to the name, just shrugged and leaned over enough to take the paper from her. “My half-sister. She lives in California.”  
  
“Your sister?” Faith tried to sound more curious than shocked. Luke hadn’t mentioned a sister. Like, at all.  
  
“Half,” Noah corrected. He set the paper aside and went back to his photos.  
  
Faith went back to her work too, casually keeping up the conversation. “Same mom or same dad?”  
  
“Dad,” he said shortly. Not snapping, but he definitely wasn’t saying more than he had to.  
  
She pretended not to get that cue. “I have a couple half-siblings. Two through my dad, one through my mom. I forget, though. Most of the time they’re just my sister and brothers.”  
  
He shrugged a little. “We’re not that close. She lives in California.” He said it again, like that was the reason for it. Napoleon lifted his head to look at Faith, as though warning her. She shut up.  
  
The rest of the emails were sorted quickly enough, and Faith was kind of impressed with the number of requests and re-orders Noah had. A lot of them were from Chicago, a few from New York even. She waited until she was sure Noah was focused on his photos and his dog, and then pulled out her phone, texting Luke quickly.  _Half sister. Ameera. in CA. WMs daughter. Arabic?_  
  
Noah groaned after another minute, taking off his glasses with a sigh. (It sounded like Napoleon’s.) “Hey, want to assist me with something?” he emphasized the word, almost teasing again.  
  
“Sure,” she stood up and joined him at the couch.  
  
He held up two pictures, one in each hand. “Which one’s better?”  
  
Her eyes widened. “Oh, um...” she studied the two. Both were wide shots at an abandoned amusement park. One was in black and white, the other in color. The black and white was of a Tilt-O-Whirl, rusted and leaning to the side. She could see cracks and dents and even handprints in the metal. The other was a ferris wheel, ivy and grass covering the base, empty and sad. They were both really sad.  
  
And then she looked closer, recognizing the sign in the background. “Wait, is this Luna Park?”  
  
Noah blinked. “Yeah. An hour or two from here.”  
  
And two hours from Oakdale. “I used to go there as a kid, oh my God.” She sunk down onto the couch, barely mindful of Napoleon. “Wow. It’s closed?”  
  
Noah nodded. “Has been for awhile. I found it on a drive about a month ago. It’s been years since anyone was there, they hadn’t even bothered to tear it all down.” He studied her face, and whatever it looked like must have been pretty stricken. “I’m sorry?” he ventured.  
  
She had to laugh a little. “No, it’s okay, it’s not like we went all the time or had stock in it or anything, I just...” she shrugged. “I have some good memories from that place.” She went quiet again, then pointed to the ferris wheel. “That one. That’s the better one.”  
  
He smiled a little. “Good. Thank you.” He hesitated for a second, then held out the other one, the Tilt-O-Whirl. “Do you... do you want this one? I have the negatives, I don’t need it.”  
  
Faith stared, feeling herself blush a little. “Really?”  
  
He shrugged one shoulder. “I just need one to go in this portfolio. And it always makes me sad to throw a print away. If it reminds you of good things, then...” another shrug.  
  
“O-okay. Thank you, Noah. Really.” She slid the photo into one of the many plastic sleeves littering the studio and put it in her purse. She pretended not to notice his awkward shrugging away of her thanks. Mainly because she was half-positive Napoleon would scold her again for upsetting his human. She waited a few more minutes, clearing away the emails away, before speaking again. “Why did you decide to photograph that place?”  
  
Noah was back in work mode, glasses on, a dozen photos spread out in front of him. He was putting them in a specific order, concentrating hard, and maybe that’s why he answered so honestly. “I like abandoned things.”  
  
Faith kept quiet after that.  
  
***  
  
“I don’t... think this is a good idea,” Hunter was still sitting in the car, still buckled in, forcing Luke to lean in from his open car door.  
  
“Hunter. Come on, man. Live a little. Get some fresh air. Socialize,” he was patient, he was. He totally was. He wasn’t three seconds away from smacking his boss’s son. He totally wasn’t.  
  
“I’m fine with all of the above, except the socializing. I don’t socialize, Luke. Bad things happen. Asthma attacks are sometimes involved.” He reluctantly unbuckled his seatbelt, but still didn’t get out of the car.  
  
Luke shrugged. And sighed. Patiently. “Well, there’s a drug store right there, so if you feel one coming on, you totally won’t die. Come on, Hunter. This is part of the job. Research is more than just Google, you know.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“ _Out,_ ” he commanded, using his best Lucinda voice. Even Hunter had to obey that one. “Now, you go to the diner up the street, okay? You tell them you’re a reporter doing a story on Noah’s studio, ask them for anything they want to tell you about him. That’s it.”  
  
“That’s it?” Hunter looked at him, disbelieving. “Are you- do you know anything about me at all? Are you crazy?”  
  
“Just stick to the plan, you’ll be fine,” Luke assured, checking that his voice recorder was safe in his pocket.  
  
“What do I do with my hands?” Hunter flailed said hands around a little. “This is why I don’t talk to people!”  
  
Luke sighed. Again. “Get a seat at the counter. Keep your hands in your lap. No one will care. Or, if you’re feeling brave, order some coffee. You can hold onto the mug.”  
  
“Not without knocking it over,” he mumbled. Luke gave him a Look, and he deflated. “Okay. Fine. But just one hour, and then I’m coming back here. Okay?”  
  
“Sure, fine. Just, just go now.  _Please,_ ” Luke almost begged. Seriously, Hunter was his friend and all, but how had this guy come from Emily Stewart of all people? And how did this guy have a crush on his loudmouth sister of all people?  
  
Off-topic, Snyder. Off. Topic. He shook his head, walking to the drug store he’d pointed out earlier. It was small and Mayberry-esque, down to the little chime of a bell when he opened the door. “Hi honey, I’ll be with you in just a second!” a voice called out from behind a row of shelves in the back.  
  
It was empty otherwise, so Luke slowly made his way back in that direction. “Okay,” he answered, hopefully sounding harmless and friendly.  
  
“All right then,” a few seconds later a woman appeared by the counter. She was older but very... bustling was the best word Luke could come up with. She wiped her hands on an apron- an honest to gods apron- and smiled at him. “Can I help you, dear?”  
  
“Um, maybe,” he gave her his best smile (the one that didn’t work on Noah Mayer, he ranted mentally) and held up his notebook. “I’m a journalist from Chicago. I’m doing a profile on that photography studio down the road from here?”  
  
“Oh, Noah Mayer’s place?” She asked, neither overly excited or overly suspicious.  
  
He’d count that as a good sign for right now. “Yes ma’am. I thought maybe some commentary from the town would add to the article. May I ask you a few questions?” Widening his eyes as much as he could without being obvious, he added, “If not, I certainly understand.”  
  
“Oh,” the old woman fumbled with her apron and her words for a second. “Well, I don’t know how much help I’d be, honey. I don’t know him that well.” Adding quietly, as though it was a shameful secret, “I don’t think anyone in town really does.”  
  
“That’s okay,” he hid his disappointment behind another smile. “He keeps to himself, huh?”  
  
“Mostly.” She went behind the counter, shuffling a stack of papers in front of her. “Don’t misunderstand, he’s a very nice young man, very polite. He always pitches in when someone in town needs help. But he keeps his distance most days. Truth be told, I don’t even know anything about him personally. I don’t know where he was before he bought that old property, and that was four years ago.”  
  
“Okay,” he smiled again, hiding his disappointment again. “So nothing happened here to make him that way.”  
  
“Oh no, honey, of course not. This is a great little town. I wish he realized that, instead of thinking we-” she stopped abruptly, just short of slapping her hand over her mouth.  
  
Bingo. “Instead of what?”  
  
Her voice dropped to almost a stage whisper. “I shouldn’t be telling tales. I don’t know for sure, but I personally- well, a few of us suspect- I think he’s afraid we’ll run him out of town or something.”  
  
He came closer, hoping he still looked sweet and innocent. “Why?”  
  
She blushed. “People in town know he’s gay. He’s never been upfront about it, but we know. We think it’s one of the reasons he stays away, poor boy. Thinks we’d judge him.”  
  
Luke sucked in a breath, steadying himself. Because  _oh_  and  _what?!_  and  _no way_  just slammed into his brain at the same time, fighting for space. “Oh,” apparently won out, because that’s what he said out loud.  
  
The woman saw, and misinterpreted, his expression. “Oh, please don’t write any of that! We don’t know for sure, and if he is acting that way because he’s scared of our reactions, well, I’d hate to chase him farther off. He’s a nice boy, I swear.”  
  
Luke mustered up a smile again. “Of course, ma’am, I totally understand.” More than she realized, but he wouldn’t be saying that.  _If_  Noah was actually gay, that is. If he was, that would make for an even better story. And might explain some of the father’s erratic and violent behavior.  
  
And, okay, maybe it had Luke understanding just a little- a  _little_ \- bit about why Noah might be shutting himself away from the world. Because something in that world had betrayed him- hurt him- just for being who he was. Maybe Luke understood that all too well.  
  
***  
  
“What am I doing wrong?” Faith threw her hands up, dramatic and not caring.  
  
“Hm?” Noah looked up from the strip of negatives he was studying, only half listening. In too short of a time, two weeks, he’d gotten good at tuning out her occasional tantrums. She’d gotten less good at hiding those tantrums, of course.  
  
“I’m trying to do something... I don’t know, pretty. But everything is coming out looking like the front of a Hallmark card.” She glared at her own negatives, feeling like that was an appropriate name right now.  
  
Noah came over to her station, placating. “I’m sure it’s not that b- oh. Yeah. Hallmark.” He shrugged, smiled a little when she directed the glare at him. “Problem number one is what you just said- you don’t know what you want to get.” He leaned back, thinking it over. “In journalism, great photos can be happy accidents, sure. But with this kind, you have to have a bit more of a plan than ‘pretty.’ Sorry,” he added, as always. He always apologized when she did something wrong. If it wasn’t so cute and she wasn’t still trying to be at least a little professional, she’d hit him.  
  
“Okay,” she sighed, setting the negatives aside. “I’m going to get a drink, if that’s okay. Do you want anything?” He waved her away, already back to his own work. She walked out of the darkroom, blinking at the brightness of the outside world, and headed to the fridge in the back of the studio, stocked with bottles of water and juice, and cheese for Napoleon.  
  
And when she shut the door to the fridge, she found her first ‘Luke job’ breakthrough. Two weeks and she’d yet to find anything personal in his house or studio (or computer). She’d never even thought to look at this fridge. So much for those observational skills. Because here it was, the first- and possibly only- personal photos Noah seemed to have.  
  
There was a picture of Napoleon, maybe a few years younger, sitting in a whited-out room with a silly party hat on his head. There was one of a much younger Noah- eighteen, maybe?- sitting on a patch of grass with a group of other kids his age. And then the same group a few years older, wearing graduation gowns and caps. College friends. Score.  
  
There was a photo of the property Faith was standing on right now, the house and the shed looking much more rundown and empty. Maybe when Noah first got the place, before he fixed it up?  
  
And the last one was of a young woman in her twenties, dark-skinned, beautiful, smiling a little awkwardly at the camera. On her lap sat a little boy just as beautiful, grinning wide with two front teeth missing. A man sat with them, mid-laugh, arms wrapped around both of them. Faith flipped the photo over, and scribbled on the back in impossibly neat handwriting was ‘Walker’s first visit from the Tooth Fairy!’  
  
“That’s Ameera and her family,” Noah had joined her without her realizing. “Two years ago, I think.” he shook his head as Faith put the photo back on the fridge. “She hates getting her picture taken as much as I do. She never really smiles in them.”  
  
“He’s a really cute kid,” she commented, smiling carefully.  
  
“Walker,” Noah smiled too, not too widely. “He’s probably a lot bigger now. He grows fast.”  
  
“You don’t see them a lot?” she handed him a bottle water as a distraction while she asked. (He tended to forget to hydrate himself if Faith or Napoleon didn’t remind him.)  
  
Noah shrugged, lifting himself up to sit on the counter by the fridge. “It’s hard for me to get out there to see them. And Ameera and I... it’s complicated. There’s kind of a major wall between us. We can’t get past it, so...” he took a sip of water. “Anyway, she has a good life out there. She’s fine.”  
  
Faith just nodded. She wondered if that wall had anything to do with the father they shared, but she wasn’t supposed to know anything about the guy so she didn’t ask. Instead she pointed to the graduation picture. “Is that from college?”  
  
He glanced at the photo and smiled a little more genuinely. “Yeah. I still keep in touch with most of them.”  
  
“You do?” she kicked herself for not keeping the surprise out of her voice.  
  
He laughed a real, deep laugh. “I know it looks a certain way, but I’m not actually a hermit.”  
  
She blushed, caught. “I know that,” she insisted, muttering a little.  
  
He laughed again. It was as relaxed as she’d ever seen him; he must’ve gotten some good shots in the last roll of film. “Most of them still live in New York,” he explained. Well, it was sort of an explanation.  
  
“You went to Columbia?” she pointed again to the photo, the insignia on their diplomas.  
  
He nodded. “Visual Arts major.”  
  
“So you always wanted to be a photographer?”  
  
His smile faltered, just a little, just enough to notice. “No, I was a film major at first. Some stuff happened and I couldn’t- didn’t feel like continuing. Switched my junior year.”  
  
Okay then. Slightly vague answer there. She remembered Luke’s advice- open up and he might reciprocate. “I wanted to go to Columbia when I was younger. My brother and I both did. We made so many plans- we were going to live at the Plaza Hotel.”  
  
He smiled. “Was school too expensive?” he asked gently.  
  
She was a little flattered he didn’t think she was too dumb to go there. That was nice. “No, stuff happened with my family, and I didn’t react well. My parents didn’t want me going too far away for school after that.” Speaking of vague answers...  
  
Noah studied her for a minute, eyes kind, then fished for something in his pocket, talking as he did. “The year I started college, I lost both my parents. Sort of. Anyway, I didn’t react too well either. Almost got kicked out of school.” He pulled something out of his wallet- something Faith recognized right away with a roller-coaster-dip in her stomach.  
  
A small disc, like the ones you’d see in poker games. But this was much much more- “How many years?” she asked hoarsely.  
  
He couldn’t really look her in the eyes. “Seven years sober,” he put the NA chip back in his wallet.  
  
She kept quiet for a minute longer before saying softly, “I get my five year soon.”  
  
Noah’s head shot up. “Really?”  
  
She nodded, blinking hard. “Boarding school sucked. I started with diet pills.”  
  
One side of his mouth quirked up. “Painkillers.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m glad you’re okay now.”  
  
“Me too,” she said simply, not wanting to overwhelm the moment. There was a sudden ‘harumph’ behind them. Faith turned to see Napoleon standing at the door, half inside and half outside, a stuffed animal in his mouth. He dropped it to the floor and nudged it with his nose, towards Noah and Faith.  
  
Noah laughed, a little shaky, and dropped down from the counter. “He’s right. That’s enough of that talk for today,” he announced. “Grab your camera. We’ll work on setting up some shots beyond just being  _pretty._ ”  
  
The tragic tension broken, Faith grinned with relief and picked up her camera, joining Napoleon at the door. They waited together while Noah found his shoes and his own camera, playing tug of war with the stuffed animal.  
  
Noah emerged with shoes and a smile, leading the two of them out back into the woods behind the house. “Okay. We’ll see what we find today. Tell me if you see something that strikes you, all right? You’ll know it when you see it.”  
  
She shook her head at his change in mood, his genuine excitement for her. “How do you not have a girlfriend?” she burst out.  
  
He blinked, thrown. And she could not have felt dumber. Especially when he chuckled again, shrugging. “I like being single?” And then, as though it was just an afterthought, “And gay, too.”  
  
“Oh,” was her brilliant response.  
  
He slowed down, giving her a side-eye. “If that’s a probl-”  
  
“Oh, God, no, it’s not!” she protested adamantly. “Trust me. I’m just surprised, is all. Not in a bad way. Definitely not bad. Sorry.” She tacked the apology on at the end, just in case.  
  
He looked just as stupefied by her rambling as she did. “Okay.” He tossed the stuffed animal ahead for Napoleon to chase after. “It’s not like I’m in the closet or anything. I just don’t do personal stuff. Talk about personal stuff, I mean.” He flashed her another teasing smile. “Not usually at least.”  
  
She returned the smile, but inside couldn’t help but feel a little sick.  _He trusts you. That’s good,_  a voice in her head reminded her. It was followed immediately by another voice.  _He trusts you. He shouldn’t._  
  
***  
  
“So if this was a twelve-step program, you’re at the ‘recognizing the problem’ part?” Luke had his notebook out today, scratching observations here and there.  
  
“Or the accepting part- is that one of the steps?” Charlene asked. She was watching him with that piercing look again, like somehow she just  _knew_  he’d been through a drinking problem and-  
  
He shrugged. “Do you think you’ll ever get to the apology step?” he asked instead.  
  
Her eyes narrowed, a bull about to charge. “I don’t make apologies. I don’t live with regrets.”  
  
“Yes you do,” he challenged. “You admitted as much in our first meeting. You haven’t accepted that, then. That maybe you could’ve done something different but chose not to. Of your own free will.”  
  
She looked him up and down. “You’re projecting,” she guess shrewdly. (Correctly.)  
  
“You’re deflecting,” he said right back. (Also correct.)  
  
She took her time adding cream to her coffee. “Maybe. Who do you think I should apologize to- my parents? My son? The people I lied to, stole from? The girls I fired, sent out onto the streets instead of working for me? Or the girls I hooked into the business in the first place.” She set her spoon down with a sharp  _clank_ , glaring. “You tell me where I start.”  
  
“Do you want to?” he asked softly, calm in the face of her sudden temper.  
  
“No,” she answered, voice a little weak. “No. This is who I am. Do you think I’d have made a great wife or mother like this?”  
  
“Would you apologize to your son if you could? What would you say if you met him now?” he didn’t dare give anything away in his voice, but God he hoped he got something here.  
  
“Nothing.” Or not.  
  
“What?” he looked up sharply, beyond confused.  
  
“I wouldn’t say anything. I wouldn’t meet him. Look at me, Luke. I’m not a mother. Especially not now. Everything I’ve done? The kid wouldn’t- We’re not family, haven’t been for almost twenty-five years.”  
  
“Do you think he wouldn’t want to meet you?”  
  
“He doesn’t, obviously, but that’s not the point. I don’t want to meet him. I’ve been through enough shit in my life, I don’t need more.”  
  
“More?”  
  
“I don’t need some kid I barely know rejecting me, looking down on me. I don’t need that.” She shook her head, as angry as Luke had ever seen her. Which told him a lot.  
  
“What did you mean, he obviously doesn’t want to meet you?”  
  
Charlene gave him a pitying look. “He knows I’m alive, he knows my name. He knows his father and I almost killed each other. There was a very public trial. He never came, never once tried to contact me.”  
  
Luke stared at her, too shocked to even try hiding it. “So?” was what he accidentally said.  
  
She glared again. She was good at that. Luke wondered if Noah’s glare was from her or his father. “If he’s ashamed of me, I’m not going to force a meeting on him. He’d rather forget he even had parents, I won’t stop him from doing that.”  
  
“How do you know that’s how he feels?” Luke pictured Noah’s completely out of the way little house and had to wonder if she was a little bit right. But then he thought of the little old lady at the drugstore.  _It’s one of the reasons he stays away. Thinks we’ll judge him._  
  
Charlene shook her head, looked down, looked away. “That’s how I’d feel.”  
  
He was quiet for a moment. “What if he did want to meet you? Hypothetically. What if he called you? What would you say to him?”  
  
She was just as quiet, for even longer. “I don’t know. I guess I’d- no, I don’t know.”  
  
“Anything?” he pressed. He needed something. He needed to know his story was going somewhere. And, okay, maybe a little, he needed to know that there was a reason to root for Charlene. And Noah.  
  
Not that he was.  
  
“Part of me would be relieved if he didn’t need me. If he was doing alright for himself,” Charlene murmured, more to her coffee cup than to Luke.  
  
He nodded, almost relieved too. “Yeah?”  
  
“But I’d also be waiting for the, I don’t know, the moment he realized who and what I was. He’s probably been waiting almost ten years to drop me like I did to him. Why would I want to meet someone who hates me?” she lowered her voice again. “Who’s justified in hating me.”  
  
Luke bit at the end of his pencil, uncertain of how to proceed. “How do you think Winston was as a father?”  
  
She laughed humorlessly. “Oh, awful probably.” She tilted her head. “Which is why he wouldn’t want to meet me. Why get proof that both of your parents are horrible people?”  
  
“You think you’re a horrible person?” Luke asked.  
  
She looked at him, not glaring this time. Tired, empty eyes. “I don’t want my own son, Luke. Tell me what kind of person I am.”  
  
Their table was silent for awhile after that.  
  
***  
  
“Your pictures are really good,” a ridiculously timid voice spoke up from over her shoulder.  
  
Faith jumped. “Jesus, Hunter, warn a girl before you sneak up behind her. I have pepper spray, you know.”  
  
His eyes went wide. “Sorry, I-”  
  
She waved a hand. “Remember for next time. And thanks,” she went back to the photos spread out on the bed in front of her. “They’re my latest roll. Noah told me to change the aperture so the depth of field is-” she stopped. Not her real job. “Anyway, I’m trying to put them in some kind of order for a portfolio. Noah says they should tell a story in their sequence, but I’m-” another stop. “I’m rambling.”  
  
Hunter gave her a shy smile. “I always ramble. I don’t mind.”  
  
That was nice. She smiled back. “Good to know. Anyway, Noah’s going to help me put a portfolio together after his next shoot is done. He says I could-”  
  
“Are you interested in him?” Hunter asked, the interruption possibly the most awkward interruption ever.  
  
“What?” her brain caught up with the words. “Oh, God no. He’s nice and really hot, but no. He’s like Luke.”  
  
Hunter frowned, confused. “He’s... gay?”  
  
“No, I meant- well, yeah, he is gay, but I meant he  _reminds_  me of Luke. Like an older brother. He’s got that protective, caring thing down to a science. You should see him with his dog, it’s ridiculous.”  
  
“Then what’s wrong with him?” Hunter asked, confused.  
  
She glared without meaning to. “Maybe nothing, did you and Luke think of that? He’s sweet, and funny when he’s actually relaxed enough to let himself be. And he cares a lot about his work. And he really thinks about things, before he says or does stuff. Show me another guy who does  _that_. He’s smart, he-” she realized Hunter had nearly backed himself across the room to get away from her. Oops. Sometimes Snyder forgot the power of their glares. “Sorry.”  
  
“It’s okay. It’s, it’s nice you are about him,” Hunter ventured. “It’s only been like a month that you’ve known him.”  
  
“Yeah.” She had to remind herself of that a lot. She’d only known him for four weeks. And one Luke’s story was finished, she wouldn’t see him again. Faith was starting to really worry about that. Noah was either going to hate her for quitting, or figure out the truth and hate her for lying and quitting. More and more, Faith wished she hadn’t agreed to do this. It didn’t feel... well, she was pretty sure her dad wouldn’t approve of this. At all. (God, he’d probably love Noah if he ever met him.)  
  
“Luke doesn’t feel the same way about him,” Hunter commented, a seeming non sequitur. Well, it was possible he’d said something before that and she hadn’t been paying attention.  
  
“Luke doesn’t really know him,” she countered. “He still sees a subject to write about. A subject that didn’t give into his charms. And it’s funny, because Noah would be perfect for-” She stopped. She stopped everything. “You. Are. A. Genius.”  
  
“I am?” Hunter lit up.  
  
“No, I was talking to myself. Oh my God. Hunter, Noah would be perfect for Luke, oh my God.”  
  
“In a... boyfriend-sense?”  
  
“Yes!” she pulled all her photos together into a pile, setting it aside. “Okay. Let’s do this. We need a plan.”  
  
“We?” Hunter’s eyes went impossible wider.  
  
“I need help planning, duh. Plus, you’re friends with Luke, you’ll be able to work that end while I take care of Noah.”  
  
“Faith,” he drew her name out slowly. Well, slowly for him. “Are you sure this is-”  
  
“A great idea, yes. They need someone like each other. See, Luke need someone as stubborn and smart as he is. Someone patient, someone who’ll remind him to slow down and take care of himself. Someone who can make him laugh and understand him. Who’s sweet and- Luke needs a lot in a guy. Everything he hasn’t been trying to get because he’s stupid.”  
  
Hunter stared at her. “I’m confused by everything you just said.”  
  
“I told you I ramble,” she reminded him. “And Noah needs someone to watch out for him and make it okay for him to smile more. Someone to drag him out of his shell and push him to take chances, but not judge him. That’s Luke.” She brought out her notebook, ready to list and plan. “Okay. What’s our first step?”  
  
Hunter was still staring.  
  
***  
  
Luke pulled into the parking lot of the town’s one nice restaurant, sighing as he turned off the car. He missed Chicago’s restaurants. He missed Thai food. He had no idea why Faith wanted to meet here instead of at the motel, but he hoped it was good news. He’d driven all the way from Chicago and his meeting with Charlene, and he was starting to get tired. Of all of it.  
  
He scanned the tables as he entered, but couldn’t find his sister. Great, to top it off, she was late. Which was weird, because she- He did a double take. Faith wasn’t there, but sitting alone at a table was Noah Mayer.  
  
He wondered where he could dump Faith’s body after he killed her.  
  
He studied Noah for a minute. The guy cleaned up well, Luke had to admit that. Not that it made up for him being a jerk or anything. And then as though Noah had heard his thoughts, he looked up, glancing around the restaurant until he spotted Luke. His eyes narrowed right away, recognizing him.  
  
Too late to leave now. Luke walked over to the table, formulating a plan as he went. “Hi,” he said when he got close enough. “Come here often?”  
  
The joke was ignored, of course. “What are you doing here?” Noah asked, thankfully keeping his voice down.  
  
“I never told you my last name,” Luke said by way of answering. “It’s Snyder.”  
  
He saw the mental click in Noah’s eyes almost immediately. “Faith?” He sat back, unsure if he should get up and walk out or not. “Okay, what the hell is-”  
  
“She’s my sister,” Luke said quickly, sitting down across from him. “I was supposed to meet her here for dinner.”  
  
Noah sighed, almost sheepish, almost defeated. “Me too.”  
  
He kinda laughed, hoping Noah didn’t think he was laughing at him. “Noah Mayer, I think we got set up.”  
  
Noah glared at nothing. “I’m going to make her clean the studio top to bottom tomorrow. Twice.”  
  
Luke held up his hands. “No argument here.”  
  
It was Noah’s turn to study him. “Why did you lie to me?”  
  
 _Which time?_  he almost asked. “When I came to the studio?” Noah nodded, wary. Luke half-smiled, which his brain tried frantically to come up with a story. “It’s- okay. It’s Faith’s first real job, you know? And it was at this tiny place, in this tiny town, nowhere near where I live or our family lives... I was nervous. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t...” he shrugged.  
  
“Illinois Chainsaw Massacre?” Noah finished for him.  
  
He smiled. “Yeah. Kinda. Sorry.”  
  
Noah lifted one shoulder. “I guess I understand. I mean, you could’ve been nicer about it, but-”  
  
“You could’ve too!” he burst out. “You kicked me out!”  
  
Noah raised an eyebrow. “You tried to fake a job interview. Badly.”  
  
“Well, yeah, maybe, but you weren’t exactly welcoming,” Luke argued stubbornly.  
  
“I wasn’t going to hire you, so I figured there wasn’t a point. You didn’t even bring a resumé.”  
  
Luke almost pouted. “You could’ve given me a chance, maybe I-” he stopped. Noah was still straight-faced, but there was something in his eyes. “You’re teasing me.”  
  
He held up one hand, thumb and finger pinched together. “Little bit.”  
  
“Not cool,” Luke pointed out, though he realized he was smiling. In this lighting, this environment, Noah’s face was softer, a little more open. Wait. Maybe that was why Faith had done this. So he could get information from Noah himself. That made sense, more sense than Faith actually setting him up on a real date with this guy.  
  
He glanced at Noah, opening his mouth to slyly start a line of questions that would cleverly give him exactly the answers he needed to write his article and- “Faith’s really great,” Noah said first, his fingers playing with the spoon on the table.  
  
 _God, it’s just like Charlene,_  he thought. Out loud he simply said, “Oh, yeah?”  
  
“Yeah,” Noah smiled honestly, and it was pretty enough to have Luke blinking, surprised. “She’s- okay, she’s the first assistant I’ve ever had, but I’d say she’s my best either way.”  
  
Luke couldn’t help but smile. “She’s been really nervous about doing a good job.”  
  
“She is,” Noah replied immediately. “You and your parents can be proud of her, I promise. She’s helped a lot. And she’s a pretty good photographer herself.”  
  
“She is?” That surprised Luke. Faith hadn’t said anything to him about taking her own pictures. He wondered how attached she was getting to this job... and this person. “I’m really glad. She speaks highly of you, by the way.”  
  
Noah blushed, rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t do much. I can’t believe she puts up with me.”  
  
“I wonder the same thing sometimes. About me,” he added, kicking himself a little. He sounded stupid. Why did he sound stupid? (Why did he care?)  
  
“Faith told me some about her family. She loves them all a lot, I don’t think you have to worry,” Noah smiled again, and Luke forgot this wasn’t a real date for a second.  
  
He shifted a little in his seat. “What about you, any family in the area?” Then he remembered, and fought against flinching. Stupid.  
  
Luckily, Noah seemed to be better adjusted than he was. “No, I don’t have much family. A half-sister in California, that’s about it.”  
  
“Oh. I’m sorry,” he meant that too. He couldn’t help but think of his last conversation with Charlene; he couldn’t reconcile her idea of her son with this. This didn’t seem like a guy who was bitterly shunning his long lost mother. Then again, Noah didn’t really seem like anyone he’d met before. Which was seriously throwing him off his game.  
  
Noah waved it away. “No big deal. I have my job and my dog,” he smiled again, and seriously- he had to stop doing that. “What about you? What do you do?”  
  
“I’m a writer,” Luke not-lied. “Some editorial and short story stuff. Nothing major.”  
  
“In Chicago?” Noah guessed. Luke nodded. “I’ve only been there a couple times. I like it, I just can’t, you know, work up the courage to move there. I like how quiet it is here. Uncrowded.”  
  
“I can definitely understand that,” Luke smiled, thinking of how Chicago compared to Oakdale. “Faith said you went to school in New York, though. You don’t miss it?”  
  
Noah bit his lip, thinking it over. “Sometimes. But there’s...” he stopped, started again. “There’s a lot of history there.”  
  
Luke nodded. “Yeah. I can understand that too.” It’s why he left Oakdale.  
  
“Anyway,” Noah shrugged. “Things are going fine enough here.”  
  
‘Fine enough’ wasn’t necessarily good, Luke wanted to point out. But it sounded like something Casey would say to him, so instead he just smiled. “Well, I’m sorry Faith blindsided you like this. I’ll let you get back to your studio if you want, while I go find my sister and glare at her.”  
  
Noah hesitated. Visibly hesitated. So Luke waited where he was. “I’m already here,” Noah said slowly. “And I even put on clean clothes. You can go, I understand if you want to, but they do have pretty good food here. If you want to stay.” By the time he was finished talking, his face had colored with embarrassment, not quite looking at Luke.  
  
Yep. Never met a guy like this before. Luke was still off his game. Which could be the only reason why he was still sitting. “I am really hungry.”  
  
Noah looked as surprised as him. “Yeah?”  
  
“I mean, I drove all this way. And me glaring at Faith can be so exhausting, so...”  
  
Noah nodded, that dry, straight-faced expression back. “You need to build up your strength first.”  
  
“Exactly.” He cocked his head to the side. “You know, you could glare at me like you did last time we met. Help me get ready.”  
  
Noah rolled his eyes. “That wasn’t me glaring. You wouldn’t be able to handle my real one, Snyder.”  
  
Why would someone saying his  _last name_  make him so stupidly fluttery? Luke ignored it. “Maybe next time we’ll test that out.”  
  
Noah blinked, a surprised almost-smile playing with the edges of his mouth. “Next time?”  
  
***  
  
Faith felt like jumping up and down and clapping her hands. “I am queen of all things. Say it.”  
  
“You are queen?” Hunter attempted.  
  
“Of all things.” She did clap then, just a few times. “I wish we had binoculars. People on stakeouts always have binoculars.”  
  
“My camera phone has a really good zoom,” he offered.  
  
“Shh, I’m stakeouting. Staking out?” she twisted, getting a little more comfortable. Only the glass of the car window and the glass of the restaurant window across the street separated her from her triumphant masterminding. She was queen of all things.  
  
“Luke looks weird,” Hunter said, looking at Luke and Noah through the screen of his phone.  
  
“Happy,” she corrected quietly. She watched Noah say something and Luke laugh- really laugh. She watched Noah light up just a little, unguarded. She watched Luke reply, face earnest in that way that wasn’t ‘Reporter’ Luke- it was real. “He looks happy.”


	3. Chapter 3

_"Okay, seriously? You never had a boyfriend in college?”  
  
“Seriously.”  
  
“Just random hookups?”  
  
“I wouldn’t say they were random. I mean, I planned them ahead of time-”  
  
“Of course you did.”  
  
“Shut up. I meant I didn’t hook up with strangers. I knew the guys.”  
  
“But no boyfriends? I can’t believe that.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“You’re just... I- I don’t know. You’re very monogamous-y.”  
  
“...For a writer, your vocabulary is appalling.”  
  
“You shut up.”_  
  
***  
  
“ _You haven’t seen him since?”  
  
“You mean since he faked his death and tried to frame my dad for the murder? Nope.”  
  
“I’m sorry, that must’ve been...”  
  
“It was, but it’s okay now. He’s far away. Again. And my mom and dad are finally back together, again, so things are good. On that front, at least.”  
  
“And on other fronts?”  
  
“I don’t... nothing’s ever gonna be perfect, right?”  
  
“I guess. But look at it this way, if Damian ever comes back, you’ll be ready this time. Not confused or angry, but ready.”  
  
“Huh.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Nobody’s ever put it that way before.”_  
  
***  
  
“ _Why aren’t you and Ameera that close?”  
  
“...”  
  
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”  
  
“No, it’s not that. I just don’t know how to- we, we didn’t meet until my father was arrested. We didn’t know each other existed until then.”  
  
“Shouldn’t that have been a happy thing?”  
  
“She came to defend my father.”  
  
“...Oh.”  
  
“She grew up with a different version of him than I did. She didn’t know what he... She took his side, tried to clear his name.”  
  
“And you didn’t.”  
  
“I knew what he was really like. I was angry back then. I didn’t want to give her a chance, not if she could still somehow love him after what he did. It’s still hard for me sometimes, to look at her and not see what she defended.”  
  
“Do you still hate him?”  
  
“Sometimes, yeah, I still do.”_  
  
***  
  
“ _Paris, definitely. It was a small restaurant, nice but not the fanciest, and it looked out at the Eiffel Tower so we could see when it lit up at night. You?”  
  
“Well, now mine sounds stupid.”  
  
“Come on, Mayer. Share.”  
  
“You chose Paris, that’s not fair! I’ve been to Rome, but I didn’t really date anyone there.”  
  
“I don’t need an outlandish answer, just your real one. What was your favorite date you’ve ever been on?”  
  
“In New York. We got takeout from this really great place down the block from my apartment, best Thai food in the city. And we just... I don’t know, hung out. Got to know each other without things in the way. Watched a really bad movie, and when he could make fun of it as well as I could, I was happy.”  
  
“...”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Nothing. I really like Thai food.”_  
  
***  
  
“This doesn’t count as a date, does it?” Noah’s voice went all timid in that way he got sometimes.  
  
Luke couldn’t stop himself from smiling, glad Noah couldn’t see him. Glad  _no one_  could see him. “This? Talking on the phone?”  
  
“Yeah. Does it- I mean, I haven’t dated in a really long time. Does this count as one?”  
  
“Why do you ask?” He didn’t even need GPS anymore, he knew the route from Chicago to this town perfectly. He pulled off the exit, readjusting the earpiece for his phone.  
  
“Because you’re supposed to... do stuff. On a date. Like, dinner and- and I don’t know. If this is a date, I don’t think I’m a very good one,” he admitted, trying to sound like he was joking even though Luke was pretty sure he wasn’t. Adorable, yes. Joking, no. (Luke reminded himself that he wasn’t falling for the adorable bit.)  
  
“How many ‘real’ dates have we had?” he asked, keeping casual.  
  
“Two,” Noah answered immediately.  
  
“And how many phone dates have we had?”  
  
“Four,” he answered just as quickly.  
  
Luke should laugh at him. Because it wasn’t like  _he_  was keeping track of how often they talked or hung out. He wasn’t. Totally wasn’t. Nope. “Well then, either way we should have dinner tonight. It would be a travesty if we talked on the phone more than we saw each other face to face.”  
  
“Tonight?” Noah repeated. “But you’re in Chicago.”  
  
“Am I?” he was still impressively casual, if he did say so himself.  
  
There was a pause. “Where are you- are you driving?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Luke, pull over. That’s dangerous. If you get in a wreck, I-”  
  
“Hands free phone, Mayer,” he grinned without meaning to. “Both of my hands are at the ten and two position, I swear.”  
  
Noah was quiet for a moment. “You’re telling the truth?”  
  
Something in Luke’s gut twisted at that, but he didn’t think hard enough to figure out why. “Promise,” he cleared his throat so Noah wouldn’t hear it crack. He could hear a smile through the line.  
  
“So you’re, um, in town?” He could hear the slightest bit of hope and anticipation too.  
  
“I might be,” he hedged, teasing. “Why, where are you?”  
  
“Getting firewood, if you want specifics,” Noah chuckled. His laugh was ridiculous, something about it reminded Luke of Ethan, genuine and... innocent.  
  
That twisty-gut feeling was almost back, and Luke pushed it away. And then registered Noah’s words. “Firewood? I would’ve thought you had your own...” his turn to panic. “Are you chopping firewood right now? While talking on the phone? You idiot, put whatever sharp thing you have down before you slice a finger off. Your assistant will kill me if anything happens to your hands, dumbass.”  
  
“Wow, that was almost sweet,” Noah remarked dryly.  
  
“I’m serious,” he insisted. He turned left onto the driveway of doom. “No Paul Bunyan-ing while you’re on the phone.”  
  
An exasperated sigh was his answer. “That’s the only lumberjack name you can think of, isn’t it?”  
  
“Don’t change the subject,” he scolded, parking next to Noah’s beat up old truck and jumping out. “Where are you? Behind the house?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m- wait, where are you?” He could hear the echo of Noah’s voice, out loud, from around the corner.  
  
“In front of the house,” he grinned.  
  
There was the  _thunk_  sound of an axe burying into wood, and then Noah was walking toward him, phone still pressed to his ear. “Hey.”  
  
Luke smiled. “Hey.” They ended the call at the same time, kind of staring, taking each other in. Luke kept his smile in place, kept it confident. Otherwise it’d reveal how much he wanted to gawk right now, with Noah standing in front of him like that. Noah was (understatement) a fan of layers, normally. Shirts on top of shirts on top of shirts. He’d probably wear a parka too if it wasn’t summer.  
  
He was very much unlayered right now. Those torn and faded jeans, with (of course) a belt to hold them up, and a pair of scuffed up boots unlaced on his feet, like he’d pulled them on just for this and couldn’t wait to get out of them again. Luke really didn’t want to think about getting out of clothing right now.  
  
He cleared his throat, brazenly looked Noah up and down to cover how it really made him feel, almost relieved when Noah started to blush and mumbled a quiet, “Shut up.”  
  
“Paul Bunyan has nothing on you,” he said, watching the blush spread down Noah’s neck to his chest.  
  
Noah didn’t even tell him to shut up this time. Just glared and ducked his head, grabbing his discarded shirt and whistling for Napoleon. The old dog got to his feet, having been sleeping on the woodpile. He ambled over to Luke, sniffing and tail wagging.  
  
“Hey buddy,” Luke couldn’t stop his smile from softening, scratching behind Napoleon’s ears as they followed Noah to the house. Napoleon rumbled a happy greeting back, leaning into Luke’s leg as they moved.  
  
Noah had regained some of his dignity by that point, waving Luke into the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”  
  
“Sure,” Luke said softly, walking a slow circle around the room. It was only his second time inside the house, first time in the kitchen. He stopped at the big chalkboard that took up most of one of the walls. Noah was apparently using it as his memo pad, writing down deadlines and important dates on random spots, tacking up photos in the empty spaces.  
  
He stopped at one particular picture. It was the older lady from the drugstore. She was leaning over her counter, smiling down at a little kid, handing over a lollipop. Neither she nor the child knew they were getting their picture taken. It was beautifully shot, perfectly framed. Warm and sweet. “You should give her a copy of this,” he commented without thinking.  
  
“Huh?” Noah lifted his head from where it had been ducked into the fridge. “Who what?”  
  
“The woman in this. You should give her a copy, I bet she’d love it.” Luke turned, accepting a glass of water from Noah. Noah had yet to offer or even mention alcohol of any kind, and Luke had to wonder about that. Had Faith told him...?  
  
“I don’t know, it’d be weird,” Noah shrugged, using his flannel shirt to mop sweat off his face. “Hey, lady-I-don’t-know. Here’s a creepy photo I creepily took when you weren’t looking and then developed creepily without you knowing and hung up in my kitchen because I’m creepy.”  
  
Luke eyed him skeptically. “It’s only creepy because you used the word ‘creepy.’ It’s a beautiful photograph, Noah. And if she’s anything like you made her look, she’d probably love it.”  
  
“Like I made her look?” Noah was just confused now.  
  
Luke gently grabbed his hand, pulling him closer to the picture. “Sweet. Motherly. Warm. I get that just from looking at it.”  
  
Noah shook his head. “Portraits aren’t really my thing.”  
  
“This isn’t a portrait,” he insisted. “It’s a moment. Moments aren’t your thing?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Noah answered honestly. “I don’t think you or your sister realize it- I’m making this stuff up as I go along most of the time.”  
  
“You need to give yourself more credit,” Luke said quietly, looking at the photograph and not Noah. When he did, Noah was composed, no sign of having reacted to that. Instead he smiled, shrugged a little, and moved over to the sink to fill Napoleon’s water dish. Luke followed him. “Do you think you’ll ever want... more than this?”  
  
“What do you mean?” Noah kept his concentration on the sink, probably on purpose.  
  
Luke shrugged the shoulder closer to Noah. “What do you want to be doing ten years from now? Still be here? New York? Back to Rome again?” He was only half-teasing.  
  
Noah smiled quietly. “I don’t know. I’d- I like it here. I have a good thing here. A better thing than I’ve had... ever, maybe. My life right now is maybe the best it’s ever been.” He glanced at Luke, so quickly maybe they both imagined it, maybe they didn’t.  
  
He blushed a little anyway. Because Noah had glanced at him. “But you might want more,” he guessed, trying to sound gentle.  
  
He was surprised when Noah nodded. “Yeah, maybe. Everyone always wants more, don’t they? I’d love to have the opportunity to travel for this. Explore more of Europe, or some deserted island somewhere that no one’s ever been to. I’d like to... I don’t know, take pictures no one else ever has before.” He set the water dish down on a towel near the door, and Napoleon immediately dove for it. “What about you?”  
  
Luke couldn’t help it; he ducked his head, mirroring Noah’s own bashful expression. “I know I want to do more than I am. Anything more.”  
  
Noah frowned, more curious than anything else. “Why?”  
  
Luke leaned back against the sink next to him, their shoulders just brushing. “My whole life, I’ve been stuck in places. In small towns or in people’s expectations or in my own bad choices. I want- I want something to break free of... of everything. I love writing. I still do, after years of classes and then writing obituaries for barely any money. I love it. I want, at some point, for it to be my  _life_. It’s all I want. I don’t need anything else, you know?”  
  
He turned to Noah as he said that last bit, but instead of Noah looking at him, nodding in understanding, Noah was _right there_. There was less of a second of hesitation, so quick that Luke maybe wondered if it was just an inhale, just getting ready, and so quick that before he realized it, Noah’s lips was on his.  
  
It was gentle, almost like testing the waters, like maybe testing Luke’s reaction. So of course Luke didn’t react- he couldn’t. In the few weeks he’d known Noah (really known him), he wouldn’t picture Noah as a ‘making the first move’ kind of guy. But he was, and the kiss was over so fast. Noah pulled away, his eyes going hooded and carefully apologetic. Oh hell no.  
  
Luke reached out, brought Noah’s face back to his. He kissed him this time, a little less quick. He drew it out, still gentle, but trying to show... something. Luke wasn’t even sure himself (of anything), but Noah’s lips were warm, soft, and they  _fit_  to his.  
  
He felt Noah’s hands come up to his face, framing it just so. His hands were suddenly perfect, Luke realized. The size, the feel- Luke had never cared about a guy’s hands before, not like this. And no one had ever touched him like  _this_  before, like he was...  
  
His knees shook. He wasn’t- okay, no one took care of Luke. Guys didn’t, anyway. He was his own person, he didn’t give himself over like that. Except for now, because all he did was lock his knees, open his mouth wider, hold on tighter. His hands slid down to Noah’s waist; he’d almost forgotten the skin there was bare. And muscled. And slick with sweat, which meant Luke’s hands slipped across his sides a little, which was definitely not a bad thing.  
  
He pulled, pressing them closer. Noah let a soft sound escape, a moan or a sigh or both, Luke wasn’t sure. But it made his legs shake again, and the shudder he couldn’t stop just pushed them that much closer together. He could feel the heat of Noah’s bare chest through his suddenly frustratingly-thin (yet not thin enough) shirt.  
  
Later, the next day sometime, Luke would look back at this and question the ethics of it. He wasn’t supposed to get involved with a story like this. But it was like there were two Lukes now. One was working on this story, was the Luke he’d always been.  
  
But this Luke, right now, was new. He was the one who had started opening up in their silly phone conversations. He was just a person, all he was was what Noah knew about him. He was a writer and a brother, he liked Paris, he liked root beer floats, and he really liked the guy currently shoving a tongue down his throat.  
  
He liked being this Luke.  
  
Later he’d decide he was two Lukes, and it was okay to be both. He could have his story and have this guy, because he could be either Luke when he needed to be. And right now, he wanted to be this one.  
  
Noah finally eased back, keeping their foreheads (and chests and hips) pressed together while he got his breath back under control. “Um...”  
  
Luke laughed. “Um? You can’t kiss me like that and just say um,” he scolded, still holding on, his thumbs unconsciously drawing little circles into Noah’s waist.  
  
One side of Noah’s mouth quirked upwards. “Maybe you fried my brain.”  
  
“Well,” he leaned up a little, brushed a kiss across Noah’s jaw, “good for me.”  
  
Noah’s laugh vibrated between their chests. “You’re a little insufferable, you know that?”  
  
“Of course I am,” he murmured between more soft, sweet kisses. “Proud of it.”  
  
Noah moved one hand under Luke’s chin, stopping his exploration of the long lines of Noah’s neck. He tilted Luke’s head up and then just... looked. He looked at Luke, studied his face, eyes bright and roaming everywhere. Luke couldn’t help but keep still. He wasn’t sure what Noah was looking at (or looking for), but this Luke really hoped he’d find it.  
  
Noah smiled again, kept his hand under Luke’s chin and kissed him. Gently, like that first time. Luke wondered if every time after this would feel like the first time.  
  
He leaned up again and, just kind of going on instinct, kissed the tip of Noah’s nose, grinning at his flushed face. And then he blushed himself when Noah’s arms moved down to wrap around his hips, holding him lose, tucking his face into Luke’s neck a little. Like all of a sudden this was catching up with him, all of a sudden it was real.  
  
Maybe Noah and this Luke actually felt the same way about each other. And maybe whatever the other Luke had to deal with, he’d deal with tomorrow.  
  
***  
  
“I feel like we’ve pretty much covered everything at this point,” Charlene commented idly as they sat down together. “What else is there for you to know?” She seemed to be in a good mood today, almost happy (well, happy for her), and it made Luke hesitate.  
  
“Actually,” he pulled a folder out of his bag and set it on the table between them. “There’s something I’d like to tell you.” He was other Luke now, and other Luke had wrestled with this decision for a few days. But ultimately, he had decided this would be good for the story. He needed the commentary, he needed the reaction. That new version of him wasn’t so sure about this.  
  
“What’s that?” she looked down at the folder, but didn’t touch it. Waited, somehow knowing to prepare herself.  
  
“I found your son,” he said as confidently and straightforwardly as he could. “Noah.”  
  
She sat back as though the folder was a rattlesnake about to strike. “Excuse me?”  
  
“Noah Mayer,” Luke hoped he didn’t sound too gentle or too patronizing or too anything. Just honest. “Age twenty-seven. He’s a photographer. About an hour from here.”  
  
Charlene was so still and so quiet. “Luke Snyder,” she said, eyes firmly looking away from the folder and away from him. “What the hell are you doing?”  
  
“Nothing, yet,” he pulled the folder back closer to him. “I’m just letting you know. I found him.”  
  
“And what does he think about your little interview project?” her voice was tightly wound and barely controlled.  
  
“He doesn’t know,” Luke answered. “He doesn’t know me.” Half true. “He’s not a part of this.” Very true.  
  
“He doesn’t... know about me?” she asked carefully.  
  
He shook his head. “No. I just wanted you to know he’s real, Charlene.” It was the first time he’d called her by her first name. “He exists. He exists like an hour from here.”  
  
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked again.  
  
“Like it or not, you have to admit- he’s a part of your story. And yeah, sure, how much of a part is up to you. But you can’t brush away this vague, abstract idea of a son anymore. He’s real and he’s really yours,” Luke held himself back from pleading, but he... he wanted this. “If you ever want to meet him-”  
  
“No,” she cut in sharply. Then, quieter, “No. I don’t. I don’t think I can.” He felt like sighing, almost did, when finally she looked up at him, cautious. “He’s a photographer?”  
  
“Owns his own studio.” And he had to add, “He’s really good.”  
  
“Does he...” she stopped, that piercing look back. “You’ve talked to him.”  
  
“No,” he said immediately, not ready for that. “I’ve been to his town, yeah. I’ve researched. Asked around. He has no idea about you and me. But he could if you want to.”  
  
“I don’t,” Charlene said immediately, insistent this time. “Look, kid, I appreciate what you’re trying to- well, no, I don’t appreciate it. But I understand what you’re trying to do.” A deep breath, “But you have to stop. It’s not your job to interfere with  _this._ ” She pointed at the folder but wouldn’t reach for it. “This is my life. And his life. They’re separate. And I don’t want to meet him, he doesn’t want to meet me, and you can’t change that.”  
  
He couldn’t accept that. He  _knew_  Noah, and he knew she would change her mind if she just met him, just once. “Will you at least consider it?”  
  
“You think I haven’t considered it in the last twenty-five years?” she snapped. “I’ve considered and weighed the options and listed the pros and cons. I’m not really his mother. I’m just some woman he’s never known. He’s not really my son. My son was three. This- he’s... he’s just a person now. And so am I.” She shook her head, defiant and determined. “It’s better this way.”  
  
It wasn’t, but there wasn’t much he could say ( _not yet, at least_ ). But he didn’t move the folder. He kept it in front of him, flipped through it once more, shut it. He was taking a chance, he knew that, but dangling the carrot usually worked.  
  
“Did he seem... okay?” she ventured.  
  
He hesitated before nodding. “He lives alone. Well, with a dog. But it looks like he keeps to himself. Runs a studio on his property, went to college at Columbia.” Her eyebrows raised, so he continued, “He’s gay-” and dating someone, but no way in hell was he saying that. “He... I think that’s part of what set your ex-husband off the deep end. I couldn’t find much, but I don’t think his coming out went particularly well.”  
  
‘Couldn’t find much’ was actually true, because it was still something Noah didn’t talk to him about. And Faith knew something, Luke was sure she did, but she wasn’t telling either. It made Luke even more determined to find out. But for now, right now, he leveled another look at Charlene. Noah’s mother. “But from what I can gather, he’s a good guy. The kind of person a mo-”  
  
“Don’t call me his mother, Luke. We’ve been over this,” she shook her head.  
  
“You are, though,” he argued. Maybe he kept his voice down, but he made sure he was still obstinate. “This is him, Charlene.” He pushed the folder closer to her once again. “He’s real.”  
  
She wouldn’t touch it. “Not to me.”  
  
***  
  
“When’s the McMillan project deadline?” Faith called across the room.  
  
“Um,” Noah was sitting on the floor, back against the couch, cleaning one of his cameras. “October 3rd, I think.” Napoleon was stretched across the actual couch, snoring loud enough for both of them to hear.  
  
She frowned, adding it to the schedule on the computer. “You do realize you’re double-booked two weeks after that, right? That gallery in Chicago, and the historical society thing here?”  
  
“I like being busy,” he reminded her for the third time that day.  
  
“Oh yeah, is that why you’ve been going out with Luke like every other night?” she grinned to herself, watching for his reaction in the computer screen’s reflection.  
  
She could see the blush. “None of your business,” he mumbled, focused on his camera lens.  
  
“Hey, I think I’ve been very good about all of this,” she said. “I haven’t once asked you what your intentions towards my brother are, so-”  
  
“I think you lost that right when you set us up in the first place,” Noah argued without any bite.  
  
And she wasn’t a bit sorry. “So what are you doing tonight, then? My brother?”  
  
He opened and shut his mouth a few times, caught. “I could fire you, you know.”  
  
She spun around in her chair, finally facing him. “Yeah, but then you’d have to start all over again with the computer. Do you really want to risk that?”  
  
He tilted his head to the side, considering, then gave a long-suffering sigh. “No, I guess not.”  
  
“You better get used to that sigh if you’re going to be dating Luke,” she said, grinning.  
  
“I didn’t  _have_  this sigh before I dated Luke,” he fired back. (He was smiling too.)  
  
She would’ve said more, she would’ve teased him more definitely, but the chime of her cell phone interrupted the inquisition. (The back of her brain wondered how he’d hold up against a full-on Snyder Inquisition. The rest of her brain had to remind her that he’d probably never meet the Snyders, because this was all for a story. Why had she set them up again?  _Because they both look happy._  God, she was an idiot.)  
  
She checked her phone instead.  _You haven’t called in a few days. Check in please? Love you._  From her mother. Of course. Was she going to have to ‘check in’ until she was fifty?  
  
Noah caught her unconscious eye roll. “Luke?” he guessed.  
  
She shook her head. “Mom,” she tucked the phone back in her pocket. “She expects me to still be at her beck and call, on her schedule, like I was when I was twelve. And then she lectures me about growing up, but I can’t do both if she keeps-” she cuts herself off. “Sorry.”  
  
Noah frowned, confused. “For what?”  
  
She fidgeted. Stupid mouth. Stupid brain letting stupid mouth talk. “Ranting about my mom when you...” she stopped again, gesturing awkwardly at nothing.  
  
Noah looked about as uncomfortable as she felt, but he still smiled. Tried, at least. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to censor anything just because,” he kinda laughed. “I told you I lost my parents- it’s true, I guess. But they didn’t die. They’re both alive, as far as I know. But...” he stopped, looked away for a second.  
  
Faith held perfectly still. She was almost terrified. Suddenly, she felt way too ill-equipped to handle this, all of this. She wasn’t cut out to be a journalist. Not like Luke. She cared way too much right now. She could  _hurt_  him. Faith didn’t want to; she didn’t want to do this. For the fifty-billionth time, she wished she really was just Faith Snyder, Noah’s assistant. Not a... spy. A liar. She wished she was still young enough to only have her mom’s craziness to worry about.  
  
Noah was completely unaware of all this, her internal war. “My mother left me when I was three. My dad left me when I was eighteen.” He shrugged, as though that was the whole story. Even if she didn’t secretly know there was more, she’d know there was now. His face...  
  
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. She wished she could tell him how much.  
  
He shrugged again. “My father’s in prison now. My mother is... she’s out there, somewhere, I guess. She never, um, she’s never sought me out.” He paused when Napoleon got up off the couch and plopped down in his lap instead. Like he knew. Noah ran his hand along the dog’s back, half-smiling. “I’m probably supposed to say, you know, you should appreciate what you have, at least your mom cares, whatever.”  
  
It hurt to smile, but she did. “But?”  
  
“But,” he echoed. “I have no ground to stand on, experience-wise. Just remember she’s your mom, you can’t ever change that. She can’t either.” One more shrug. “Doesn’t sound like she wants to.”  
  
Faith bit her lip. “Yeah,” was all she could say. “Would you... did you ever try to find your mom?”  
  
He shook his head, looking down at Napoleon, smiling when the dog whined and butted him in the chest. “After... after everything? No, I don’t think it’d be healthy for me, to borrow a shrink-phrase.” He tried to make that sound like a joke, but it so painfully wasn’t. “There are things I’ve accepted, and things I can’t. She doesn’t want me, that’s fine. Having a stranger be my- my mother? Not for me.” He sounded actually okay with that. Knowing him, he probably was.  
  
Faith still wanted to cry. She  _liked_  Noah. She knew Luke did too. She shouldn’t be here. “Um,” she cleared her throat. “I’ve got to get going. Your schedule’s all set up for the next three months, if you want to look it over.” She gathered her things, unable to look him in the eye.  
  
“Okay,” he sounded so steady. “Sorry to kill the mood,” he offered. And that was  _nice_  of him. He was nice. She hated it. That. Him. Herself. Luke and Emily. Charlene.  
  
“No, I swear, it’s okay.” She smiled as he stood up, shaking off Napoleon, and joined her at the door. Then, impulsively, she threw her arms around him. “See you tomorrow,” she mumbled into his shoulder.  
  
His arms came around her after a startled hesitation. “Okay,” he said, patting her on the back. When she pulled away, he studied her face, concerned. “You sure you’re okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” she smiled when Napoleon joined them, nudging them both so he could stand between their legs. “Just... just stuff with my mom, and, you know...” she trailed off. She didn’t even know, how could he?  
  
But he nodded, smiled again. “Okay. Good job today. Sorry it was all computer stuff, tomorrow we’ll do something more fun.”  
  
“Okay.” She wanted to hug him again, but instead turned and headed for Hunter’s old car. For the first time in years maybe, she really just wanted her mom to be there and make everything okay.  
  
***  
  
“Hm,” Luke sipped his drink as he thought about it. “Girl? Becca Ford, fifth grade. But I guess that doesn’t count. Guy- he was from the news station I interned at the summer after high school graduation. Roth. I was seventeen.” He leaned back against the tree they were sitting under, nudged Noah’s knee with his own. “Your turn. First kiss.”  
  
“Gabe Johansson. Seventeen, during finals week, senior year of high school,” Noah nodded to himself, letting his shoulder rest more against Luke’s. The remains of their dinner was spread out on the blanket in front of them. A picnic. Luke would’ve shaken his head at how cheesy it was... but it wasn’t cheesy. Not like this, for some reason. “Last kiss?” Noah suggested.  
  
“You,” Luke duh’ed, leaning over to prove it, quick and sweet against his lips.  
  
Noah smirked a little, rolling his eyes. “Before me,” he clarified.  
  
Luke stilled, looking down at his hands. How honest did he want to be here? “A guy named Justin. I don’t think we ever learned last names. Didn’t need to.” He let that explain things, and Noah just gave a little nod, understanding. “Last relationship was four years ago. Boyfriend from home, before I moved to Chicago.”  
  
“What happened?” Noah asked softly, his weight against Luke’s side warm and comforting, not oppressive.  
  
“He died,” Luke couldn’t figure out how else to say it. “Car accident. We’d had a huge fight. On our way to breaking up, it was going to happen, we could both feel it. He wanted to get out of that town. And I was... stubborn.”  
  
Noah brushed a kiss across his forehead. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he said gently.  
  
Luke smiled a little, leaned more into him. They were propping each other up, more than the tree was. “I didn’t want to change anything. I was scared. I couldn’t leave town, but I couldn’t leave him. So we both just got more and more miserable. Couldn’t admit it was time to move on.”  
  
“Then he died?”  
  
Luke nodded. “I told him I wished I’d never met him, that he was ruining my life, forcing me to be his trophy boyfriend, but he couldn’t do anything for me. He called me a spoiled child, said I was playing make-believe, that he was my only chance at settling down or whatever. I told him to go to hell. He got into his car, drove away.” He bit his lip, squeezing Noah’s hand when it slipped into his. “Next time I saw him was to identify his body in the morgue.”  
  
Noah studied him, but without the intensity that would make Luke feel suffocated. “I’m sorry,” he said simply. “Is that why you moved to Chicago?”  
  
“Yeah. People started treat me like, I don’t know, either a victim or a... a leper. I hated that people were expecting me to have a breakdown. My family, mostly. And everyone elsetreated me like I was a curse. So one morning I packed my stuff and drove to Chicago without telling anyone. Started over. I haven’t been ‘me’ since then.” He squeezed Noah’s hand again.  _Until now._  
  
Noah smiled like he knew- maybe he did?- and kissed his forehead again. Luke had to smile into it. He’d never felt this okay, this settled, after talking (or thinking) about Reid. “You okay?” Noah asked, like he needed the confirmation.  
  
“Yeah,” Luke breathed out, directing the smile at Noah. He leaned his head down on Noah’s shoulder, nestling in. “Let me guess, you’ve got a traumatic story for your last relationship too?”  
  
Noah huffed a short laugh, confirming it. “Ain’t we a pair?” he murmured, his cheek resting in Luke’s hair.  
  
Luke pulled Noah’s hand more into his lap, traced his fingers playfully. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” he repeated Noah’s words from earlier.  
  
Noah laughed a little again. “That wouldn’t be fair, would it?” He was silent for a minute, then started talking again. “Gabe was my first and last relationship. It lasted seven weeks before my dad found out about us.”  
  
“Uh-oh?” Luke guessed, hoping he sounded as gentle as Noah had with him.  
  
“Yeah,” Noah agreed. “He didn’t react well.”  
  
“How bad?” he asked, scared of the answer.  
  
“He gave me a concussion and broke my collarbone,” Noah said it so matter-of-factly, but also carefully- like he was worried about Luke’s reaction.  
  
Luke closed his eyes, took a slow breath in and out. “And then?”  
  
“He disappeared, evaded police and all that. By the time I was released from the hospital, he got arrested for almost killing some woman in Chicago.” Some woman being Charlene, Luke realized. “I didn’t handle it well. I, uh, got addicted to the painkillers I was on. Spent the first year and a half of college screwing everything up.”  
  
He brought Noah’s hand up to his mouth, kissed it softly. “Then things changed?”  
  
“Yeah,” he said, almost grateful he didn’t have to go into details. “Got into counseling and rehab and all of it. School was all I had, and they threatened to kick me out. So I had to.”  
  
“I’m glad you did.” Luke thought of Faith, of his own drinking problem, his mother...how bad so many things could have gone. “I’m glad you’re okay.”  
  
He could feel Noah’s small smile. “Napoleon was my therapy dog.”  
  
“Really?” Luke looked up at him, surprised.  
  
Noah nodded. “He was supposed to be a police dog, but some defect- he didn’t have the sense of smell bloodhounds usually do. They donated him to the therapy program instead. And we found each other.”  
  
Luke smiled,thinking of the pair of them. “They let you keep him?”  
  
“About a year after I graduated college, my old therapist contacted me to say they were retiring him. I adopted him the next day.” He could feel Noah’s smile, peaceful, satisfied, like he was glad he’d done something right.  
  
“You’re incredible,” he whispered, half without meaning to, definitely hoping Noah didn’t hear him.  
  
He did, of course, but he just shrugged. “Not really.” He leaned in, so close. “But- but I like that you think so.”  
  
Luke closed the distance between them. They kissed slowly, but deeper and deeper, grasping tight. He tasted sweet, the strawberries they’d eaten with dinner. He pushed as Noah pulled, and suddenly there he was straddling Noah’s lap against that tree. Everything intensified, everything heavy and rushed and just  _necessary._  For both of them.  
  
They hadn’t had this, something real, someone kissing Luke for Luke and Noah for Noah in... maybe ever. Luke couldn’t be sure anymore. He’d never had what his parents have, what Casey and Maddie have. Was this it? This Luke was starting to think it maybe was.  
  
So what the hell was he supposed to do with that other Luke?  
  
***  
  
He bit his lip, shifting left and right, as Casey’s eyes scanned the pages, one line after the other. Slowly. Very slowly. “Well?”  
  
“Hang on,” Casey held up a middle finger, still reading.  
  
Luke shifted around some more. Casey was still scanning. “What grade reading level did you test at?” he snapped.  
  
“Grade Fuck Off,” Casey fired back absentmindedly. “I’m in the legal business, Snyder. We read everything with a fine-toothed comb.”  
  
“Comb faster,” he whined.  
  
Casey kept his middle finger up until he finished. “Okay,” he set the papers down between them. “Done.”  
  
That was all he said. Luke stared. “Well?” he practically growled.  
  
Casey drew it out as long as he could before grinning widely. “It’s really good, Luke. Really good. You could submit it as is, and it’d be a hit.”  
  
He stopped fidgeting, almost surprised. “Really?”  
  
“Yeah, man. It leaves me really wanting you to bring these two together, just to see what would happen, you know? I, wow, I kinda want them to have a happy ending. Even the psycho loner.”  
  
“He’s not a psycho,” Luke said immediately, insisting.  
  
Too insistent. Casey raised his eyebrows. “You and Faith are getting kinda attached to this guy,” he commented, a little too casually.  
  
And yet, Luke still couldn’t help but rise to the bait. “Noah’s been through a lot. And he’s a great guy. You don’t know him, how he treats Faith and me, and-” he stopped at the new look on Casey’s face. “What?”  
  
“Oh my God, Luke, are you in love with this guy?”  
  
“I...” he meant to deny it right away, of course he wasn’t, but his brain stalled.  
  
Which was why he also couldn’t figure out why Casey was smiling. “Luke,” he said kindly. “You really like him. It’s okay, you know.”  
  
“He’s my story,” he countered, surprised at how weak his argument ended up sounding.  
  
“Really?” Casey shook his head indulgently. “Luke buddy, it’s okay to care about somebody again. It’s been years since-”  
  
“I’m not in love with him,” Luke tried to sound more confident this time, but it came off sounding more panicked than anything else.  
  
“Then how come you haven’t turned this story in to Emily yet?”  
  
He opened his mouth to explain, but his brain stalled again. Because...? “I only uploaded a first draft.” Casey’s expression told him that wasn’t good enough, so he tried again. “It’s not done yet.”  
  
“ _You’re_  not done yet,” Casey corrected. “With Noah. You and Faith, you’re making him a part of your lives.” He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing now. “You’re staying in this story too long, man. All three of you are going to get hurt, you know this.”  
  
“Well, what am I supposed to do, Case?” he burst out. “Because you’re right. I- I’ve never felt this way about a guy before. He treats me like I’m... and Faith, he’s so good with her. What am I supposed to do?” He was begging now. “Tell me.”  
  
“Luke,” Casey tried.  
  
But he was on a roll now. “Yeah. As soon as he finds out the truth, Faith and I will have to leave him. He’ll hate me, maybe both of us. So yeah, I’m prolonging this. Because  _I’m_  not ready to let him go. I’m not ready to go back to the nothing bullshit that I was. He doesn’t treat me like I’m nothing,” he stopped, out of breath. They were both quiet for a long time.  
  
“I don’t know,” Casey finally said, actually sounding sorry. “I really don’t know, Luke.”  
  
Luke stared at his papers, his wonderful, horrible story. “Me either.”  
  
***  
  
Faith capped and uncapped the lens of her camera, staring at nothing. Noah had been in such a good mood today, and she had to think it had something to do with his date with Luke the night before. She should be happy for him, for both of them. She should be proud that she had started it. She just felt uneasy, sick to her stomach.  
  
 _Why did you leave your first job?  
  
Oh, well, I’d been posing as an assistant in order to get my brother a news story, and I set my boss and brother up, and they got along great, but then we had to tell the truth and now we’re all miserable._  
  
She couldn’t exactly put that on her resumé. A hand touched her shoulder out of nowhere. She jumped, nearly dropping her camera. “Jesus, Hunter! We talked about this.”  
  
“Pepper spray. Right. Sorry,” he sat down out of hitting distance. “I said your name like four times. You didn’t answer.”  
  
“Oh. Sorry,” she said, maybe a little sheepish.   
  
“Are you okay?” he asked, looking at her way too earnestly.  
  
She hesitated, shrugged a shoulder, frowned. “I don’t know. No.” She put her camera away carefully. “I think doing this was a big mistake.”  
  
“The pretending?” he guessed.  
  
“Yeah. I think I hate it more and more each day. Because,” she lowered her voice. “I  _like_  this job. And I like Noah, and I like him and Luke together, they’re so good for each other it’s almost stupidly perfect, you know?”  
  
“Um, kinda? I guess?” Hunter was trying to keep up with her, she had to give him that.  
  
“If it was just that, there’d be nothing to worry about. Things would be... perfect. But the lying to Noah, and how much it’s gonna hurt them to be apart, I just... Luke hasn’t gone out and picked up random guys since he started dating Noah.”  
  
“Oh.” Hunter could not look more confused now.  
  
“And that’s a good thing,” she explained. “He’s been empty since Reid died, since  _before_  Reid died. This is the first time I’ve seen him excited about something besides work in years.” She felt like shoving the camera away, breaking it. “And Noah seems like he’s been the same way. And if we leave him, what’s he going to do? And, God, Napoleon isn’t a young dog. When he loses him too, what’s he going to have?”  
  
“S-so, what do we do?” he asked.  
  
She closed her eyes, shoulders slumping. “I don’t  _know._  I hate it. I mean, when all this is over- is Noah going to better or worse off for having met us? I don’t know. I don’t know.” She wanted to glare at him, but couldn’t work up the energy to open her eyes. “Why did Emily make us do this?”  
  
Hunter didn’t answer at first, and it was enough to get her to open her eyes. His own eyes were downcast, pulling at a loose thread on his shirt sleeve. “I, um, think she has a soft spot for reuniting mothers and long lost sons,” he said quietly.  
  
“Oh.” Faith sagged back in her seat. “Damn it.” And didn’t  _that_  complicate things even more. “What do you think we should do?”  
  
Hunter’s head whipped up, startled. “What do I think?”  
  
“From the long lost son perspective. Are we doing the right thing? Should we tell Noah? Should we just worry about the story? What?” she was desperate, she didn’t care how she sounded. “This whole thing is going to suck no matter what.”  
  
“Emily and I had a, you know, kind of different reunion than Noah and his mother would have. I can’t really speak for them,” he hedged an answer. “But, as- as someone who’s left in the dark a lot? You should tell him the truth. If you look at this like a science experiment, what are the possible outcomes?”  
  
“God, I don’t know, Bill Nye. Tell me,” she huffed, crossing her arms.  
  
He ignored the attitude. “Either you never tell him, Luke stays with him, and the lie is always hanging between them. Not good. You tell him, he’s mad at you. You don’t tell him, the article comes out, he finds out what we’re doing, he’s really mad at you.”  
  
Her eyes were a little too wide-eyed to be glaring. “None of those are good outcomes, Hunter!”  
  
“No, yeah, I know, but...” Hunter scooted closer to her. “Think about the outcomes. You tell him now, logically, that’s the best chance for him to forgive you and Luke. Us.”  
  
“Not a guarantee,” she said, pouting.  
  
“No,” he admitted. “But best likelihood. I think it’s too late for a guarantee.”  
  
Faith was quiet for a minute, maybe two. “This completely sucks, but, well, thanks for trying Hunter.” He blushed and nearly ripped his sleeve pulling on the thread. “But,” she groaned, not done, and ran a hand through her hair. “One final problem with no solution- it’s not up to me to tell Noah anything.”  
  
Hunter considered it for a moment. “Luke?”  
  
“Luke,” she sighed. “Luke has to be the one to tell him.”  
  
***  
  
Luke was, not a shock, used to waking up in unfamiliar places. That seemed to surprise people, considering he didn’t drink, but hey- there are always other ways of losing yourself. He was practically an expert. So, waking up now to an unfamiliar ceiling in an unfamiliar room, he wasn’t too concerned.  
  
He blinked at the ceiling a few times, mentally running through his checklist. In a bed? Yes. Clothed? No. Sore? Yes. In a good way. He stretched slowly, fingers to toes, and the movement caused an arm he didn’t even realize was draped around him to tighten across him a little.  
  
And then Luke remembered the night before.  
  
Noah.  
  
 _They managed to burst through the door to the bedroom and shed their clothing without losing contact, which was important. It was vital. Luke had to touch Noah, and it seemed pretty obvious that Noah had to touch him too. It was more than want.  
  
Noah was breathless, giddy, open in a way Luke wasn’t sure he could’ve ever pictured Noah being, the wide grin on his face not tempered with wariness or that ‘soldiering on’ thing he got so often. He freed his arms of that last pesky sleeve and grabbed for Luke’s face again, pulling it back to his.  
  
Luke let himself be pulled, laughing into Noah’s kiss, kicking away his shoes. His own fingers were hooked and tangled in the belt loops of Noah’s jeans, and he actually had to concentrate for a moment to free them, yank at the buckle there instead.  
  
He had about a second to celebrate his success there before he was falling back, happily, pulling Noah with him, and they landed together in a pile of limbs and hands and less and less clothes._  
  
Luke smiled, turned slowly onto his side into the warmth lying next to him. Noah was blinking fuzzily, facing him, that one arm still wrapped comfortably around Luke. (It really was comfortable. He didn’t even want to pretend otherwise.) “Hey,” he whispered, smiling a little, rubbing Noah’s arm.  
  
Noah smiled back, all sleepy and happy. “Morning.” He did the opposite of stretching, curling in some more so his legs tangled with Luke’s, bringing them a little closer together. He bit his lip like he was trying to swallow back the smile and not seem to eager. “‘M glad you’re still here.”  
  
His smile didn’t falter, but he felt a little... guilty, probably. Guilt was probably what this was. Maybe shame. It was like his reputation was still preceding him, and even Noah knew him as a ‘one night stand’ guy. He tried to make the smile wider. “Well-”  
  
Noah was suddenly more awake. “I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry, I didn’t-” he stopped, started again, that bashful smile in place. “I meant,  _I_  don’t normally get, um, mornings after. As a, you know...” he stopped again, squeezing his eyes shut to hide. “Can we go back to sleep and start over?”  
  
Shame long gone, he grinned easier, bringing his hand up to lay against the side of Noah’s face, rubbing his thumb in little strokes across his cheekbone to get him to open his eyes. “Hey,” he whispered again.  
  
Noah smiled back. “Morning,” he said again too.  
  
Luke leaned in, kissed him softly. “Breakfast?”  
  
Noah studied him for a moment. “Are you requesting or offering?”  
  
“Wow,” Luke sighed, “It’s like you don’t even know me.”  
  
He laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I should’ve known.” He rolled onto his back with a groan. “What do you want me to make?”  
  
He pretended to think about it. “Hmmmm,” he rolled with Noah, landing on top of him, folding his hands over Noah’s chest and resting his chin on them. “You.”  
  
He felt Noah’s laugh as much as heard it. “That was not your best line, Snyder.” And yet, his arms came up and around, hands linking at the small of Luke’s back and holding on. “You might not deserve waffles.”  
  
“Oh-my-god-waffles-yes-please,” he grinned, saying it all in one breath and one word. “You are the greatest man ever and I worship you.” Noah flinched. He obviously tried not to, he tried to hide it, but he flinched. He tried to shift a little, but Luke pressed down more of his weight, holding him there. “Noah?”  
  
Noah let out another laugh, but it wasn’t as light as before. “It’s nothing.”  
  
“Not nothing,” he argued, pressing down some more. “What’s wrong?”  
  
He couldn’t really shrug with Luke holding down like that, but Luke could sense the movement anyway. “I never really... I never really thought this would happen to me.” One side of his mouth lifted up. “I’m not good at dealing with good things, Luke. And this- you and me- it’s a good thing.”  
  
“I think it’s good too,” he murmured.  
  
It made Noah smile a little more. One of his hands came up to Luke’s hair, playing with the strands. “When I was messed up and everything, I got used to being... to bad things happening. My dad hit me, my boyfriend left me instead of seeing if I was alive, my mother never even bothered with that, the only thing that didn’t seem like it was killing me was pills and- and more stuff like that. I couldn’t keep my head above water, you know? I did anything, took anything, to feel like I wasn’t...”  
  
Luke tilted his head down, kissed the muscle and skin over Noah’s heart. “I know.” He did, in a way. He understood.  
  
“I loved watching movies, it was like looking at a different world. Heroes win, happy endings, all that. And sometimes I could even believe... maybe that stuff happens in real life. Not to  _me_ , sure, but maybe someone somewhere actually got those things and was happy.” Noah did that not-shrug thing again. “I have always-  _always_ \- been okay with not getting what I want.”  
  
“Noah...” Okay, maybe that was something he didn’t relate to. But to hear it like this...  
  
And then he smiled so sweetly. “I was okay with it, I mean it. It felt like I could handle anything that got thrown at me. I didn’t have to want happy endings. I didn’t need someone to- to say nice things to me. I didn’t need anyone for anything. I wasn’t happy, but I was fine.”  
  
 _No you weren’t,_  he wanted to argue. But wisely, somehow, he kept his mouth shut, kissing him gently instead.  
  
Noah carded his hand through Luke’s hair, really looking at him now. Still smiling. “And the reason I’m telling you all this is because since you- and your sister- showed up here? I’ve been, I don’t know, thinking about happy endings. Not in a movie way.”  
  
Luke studied him for a minute, then reached back and pulled Noah’s hand away, bringing it forward in both his hands. “Baby, that’s a really roundabout way of saying you’re happy.”  
  
He’d never called anyone ‘baby’ before, it just slipped out. For a second, just a second, he wanted to snatch is back. But then a second later, the blush and smile on Noah’s face made him reconsider. Maybe his instincts with Noah were okay, then. They kissed slowly, deeply, encompassing as much as they could. He pulled back to catch his breath. “Noah?”  
  
“Yeah?” Noah squeezed his hand.  
  
And it was then, right then, that Luke almost did it. Almost told Noah everything- Charlene, the story, Faith. He almost told Noah he was falling for him. (Wait, was falling?  _Had_  fallen. Hard.) He almost confessed everything. He wanted to, so badly. Needed to. So he leaned in close again, kissed Noah softly, and opened his mouth. “I’m happy too,” was all that came out.  
  
Noah smiled wide at him, pulled him impossibly closer. That was the last talking either of them did for the rest of the morning.  
  
***  
  
“You’re practically skipping, dude. I don’t like it,” Casey grumbled.  
  
Luke smirked, waving his coffee cup around. “You could have caffeine, you know. It might make you a little sunnier.”  
  
Casey groaned. “Maddie and I have a deal. If she can’t drink alcohol or coffee, neither can I. Not until she has the baby.”  
  
“So drink some at work, it’s not like she’ll know,” Luke said.  
  
“No.” Casey looked at him, wide eyed. “She’ll know.” They got off the elevator and walked into the office. “Besides, it’s not Starbucks that’s making you this way. You got lucky this weekend, didn’t you?”  
  
“Lucky being the operative word,” he mumbled. Casey, thankfully, let that one go.  
  
“Hey Luke,” one of the bullpen voices called out. “Great job!”  
  
“Thanks,” he replied, pretty much unconsciously.  
  
“Great job on what?” Casey asked, following him to his office.  
  
He shrugged. “No clue. But I’ll take it.” They waved at Georgie, who gave Luke a pointed look. Uh-oh. He slowed down by her desk. “What did I do?”  
  
“Nothing yet,” she always sounded like she was half a minute away from a lecture. “A copy of the edition is on your desk, I’ve been fielding a few calls to your extension already this morning.”  
  
“Edition?” he repeated, confused.  
  
“Of the paper,” Georgie said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the word.  
  
Which it wasn’t. “What?”  
  
“Luke!” someone else, Ryan maybe, walked past, clapped him on the shoulder. “Great article, man. I think it’s your best yet.”  
  
Article?  
  
Article.  
  
He stared at Casey, wide eyed and starting to panic. Casey connected the dots a second after him, let out an “oh shit,” and dashed off to Luke’s office. Luke couldn’t follow. His feet were rooted to the floor by the reception desk. No. No, there’s no way. It couldn’t possibly be-  
  
“Luke,” Casey was back in front of him, looking worried and sick. “Did you- that, that rough draft you showed me. Did you...?” He was holding the morning’s edition of the paper in his hand. Luke’s eyes were drawn to it. He couldn’t make out the words, but the tiny little square picture under the byline was definitely him.  
  
The article was his article. About Charlene. About Noah. As if by magic, his cell phone started to ring. Without taking his eyes off of Casey and the paper, he pulled it out of his pocket, put it to his ear. “Hello?” He didn’t recognize his own voice.  
  
“Luke!” Faith sounded somewhere between worried and really worried. “Something’s going on. Something’s wrong. Have you heard from Noah this morning?”  
  
“No,” he kept his answers short. Otherwise something in him would burst. The world would end. Something.  
  
“The studio's locked,” she kept on, not realizing that the floor was slowly swallowing him up, a bit at a time. “It’s dark, I can’t get in. And the house is locked too, I can’t find him anywhere. But his truck his here. I don’t... something’s wrong, Luke. What’s going on?”  
  
He was frozen. He was ‘this Luke’ and ‘that Luke’, and both were panicked. Neither knew what to do. “I-” his voice caught, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m on my way.”  
  
But both Lukes were pretty sure it was too late.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a wonder he managed to keep his hands steady for the drive. He could hear Noah’s voice in his head, scolding him about reckless driving, and had to blink a few times to clear his vision. Fear and guilt and anger (he was going to  _kill_  Emily for publishing without telling him) bombarded him on all sides, and he didn’t know which was better to react with. They all hurt.  
  
He pressed the redial on his phone, adjusting the earpiece nervously. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he chanted. The second the click in his ear told him someone had, he burst out with words. “Charlene, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know it-”  
  
“Stop.” She sounded as hard and brittle as she ever had. “You have a lot of goddamn nerve, Mr. Snyder.”  
  
“I didn’t know it was- Emily printed it without my permission, Charlene, I swear! I didn’t-”  
  
“Did she write it without your permission?” Charlene cut in sharply. “You and I had set up some pretty clear boundaries and agreements when we started this. I didn’t know I was the only one honoring them.”  
  
“No, that’s not-” he was sounding desperate, but that was okay. He was desperate. “It wasn’t even my real article, just something I’d written. It wouldn’t have been in the final draft.”  
  
“What wouldn’t have?” she snapped. “Everything with Noah? Everything you’ve been keeping from me, or outright lying about? You obviously know him, Snyder. You’ve spoken to him, interacted with him. How much did he tell you to keep from me?”  
  
“He doesn’t know!” Luke might have been shouting. “He doesn’t know anything about this.”  
  
Charlene was quiet for half a moment. “Why should I believe you?”  
  
“I don’t know,” he said, hearing the almost tears in his own voice. “I’m on my way to his house right now. He- he didn’t know any of this. He thought I was just-”  
  
“I guess a lot of us were under false pretenses,” her voice went hard again. “If he expects a relationship with me because of this-”  
  
“I don’t care,” his turn to snap. It seemed to shock her into silence, but he couldn’t stop. “You think I want him to reconnect with you now? You don’t love him, not like-”  _like I do_ \- “like he should be. You abandoned him. The reason he wasn’t at your trial? He’d been in the hospital. Your ex-husband beat him with a baseball bat when he found out Noah was gay. You weren’t there for him, didn’t want to be. Why would I want him around you now?”  
  
“Luke-”  
  
The use of his first name didn’t register. “He would be a great son. I know he would. But he doesn’t want to be, and that’s on you. You could’ve changed that. Now it’s too late. He’s not going to want a relationship with you, Charlene. He’s going to run farther away.”  
  
More silence. “How did you calling me to apologize turn into you calling me to lecture?”  
  
He deflated a little. “I don’t know. But you could-”  
  
“You got your big story, Mr. Snyder. Congratulations. I hope it’s everything you wanted.” Then she hung up.  
  
Luke kept driving. What else could he do? He didn’t look at his hands; he knew they were definitely shaking now.  
  
***  
  
Funny how much he’d hated Noah’s driveway at first. Now he navigated it like a pro, pulling up to the house in record time, parking next to Hunter/Faith’s car.  
  
Faith was sitting on the front steps of the house, anxiously fiddling with her phone. “I don’t- I don’t know what to do,” she said the second he jumped out of the car, sounding so helpless.  
  
His little sister wasn’t ever supposed to sound like that. “He’s inside?”  
  
She nodded. “I think so. He won’t open the door or answer my calls. Luke, he...” she shook her head, eyes begging for anything.  
  
He took a deep breath. “Why don’t you go back to the motel? Let me handle this. If he’s going to yell, it should be at me.”  
  
“No,” she said quietly. “It should be both of us. I’m in this too, Luke. I’m a part of it. I never stopped it from-”  
  
“Really?” a very small voice interrupted them.  
  
Luke whirled around so fast he almost stumbled. “Noah, I...” Noah stood at the open doorway. One hand was flat and controlled at his side, Luke’s paper between two fingers, the other holding the door frame tightly. It was the only thing that looked out of sorts. The rest of him was very still. “I’m so-”  
  
“It’s all true?” Noah asked. His face and voice were both so much like that first time they met right here. Guarded. Untrusting. Robotic.  
  
“I didn’t know they were going to print it, I wasn’t told. My boss just-”  
  
“Not what I asked,” Noah looked at him, but not  _at_  him. Just off to the side, like he couldn’t get himself to look all the way. God, it hurt.  
  
He tried to take a deep breath. It only half worked. “I’m a reporter. I was assigned to do a profile on Charlene Wilson. I found out she had a long-lost son, and so I-”  
  
“Not lost,” Noah corrected, way too calm. “Left behind. There’s a difference.”  
  
He heard Faith sniff next to him, but couldn’t look away. “I know. I’m so sorry, Noah, I never meant for this to happen.”  
  
“What did you think would happen? I’d never find out all of this was a trick?” He waved the hand holding the paper at the space between them, and it was so steady.  
  
Luke couldn’t help but take a step forward. “No, it wasn’t a- it’s not like that. Please, let me come in, and we can-”  
  
“And you knew too.” Noah directed his not-gaze towards Faith. “You were in on it.”  
  
She nodded a little, tears threatening to fall. “Noah, I’m-”  
  
He nodded too, backing away from them. “You got your story, then. You should both go. It’s done.”  
  
“No,” Luke protested. “Noah, you have to believe me, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”  
  
“I ‘have’ to believe you?” Noah shook his head, looking down at his feet. “I don’t ‘have’ to do anything with you. You made me think you actually...” He turned away. “Just go.”  
  
“I do care about you,” he moved to the bottom step, close enough to hear Napoleon in the house, whining and confused. “Please, please let me explain. Both of us, we-”  
  
“Get off my property. Now.” Noah tossed the paper down the steps, pages littering Luke’s feet. His back was now to Luke.  
  
“Noah,” he tried one more time, desperate.  
  
“Luke,” Noah’s voice, so quiet and distant, was spoken over his shoulder. “I don’t ever want to see you again.” He shut the door, Luke could hear the click of the lock sliding firmly into place.  
  
He blinked a few times and turned to Faith. They looked at each other, lost. Defeated. “What do we do?” Faith whispered, tears finally falling.  
  
Luke tried that deep breath thing again, and only managed a shudder. His muscles suddenly hurt all over, like he’d just gone through a seizure. He rubbed at his chest; it hurt there the most. “I...” he shook his head for no reason. Reaching for her, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and walked back to their cars. “I don’t know.”  
  
***  
  
Maddie had wisely (of course, Maddie was always wiser than everyone else) invited Faith to spend the night with her in a girl-bonding-thing, which meant he wouldn’t have to worry about her for at least a little while.  
  
Unfortunately, that meant all he had to worry about was Noah. And him and Noah. Suddenly the idea of never seeing or touching him,  _ever_  again, was maybe the most painful thing ever. It was enough to have him ripping up his notes from Charlene, throwing away the tape recordings, and sitting alone in his kitchen.  
  
Staring at a bottle of vodka.  
  
He wasn’t completely sure why he had it, he thought maybe it had been part of a housewarming gift from a well-meaning but unaware co-worker. But he’d never thrown it out.  _For just such an occasion,_  he told himself.  
  
He had an empty glass in front of him, an empty stomach, and a brain too full. What’s one more mistake in a life of them, right? Everyone was right. He was cursed. This would be the easiest way to fix that for awhile. He reached for the bottle. And then someone knocked on the door.  
  
For a millisecond, he was sure it was Noah. To hear him out or punch him, he actually didn’t care. As long as he could see Noah face to face again. He told himself not to hope, he was never that lucky- And so that part of him wasn’t surprised to see Casey instead. With Hunter right behind him.  
  
“What?” he asked, distantly surprised at the sullenness in his own voice.  
  
“Okay,” Casey leaned in the doorway. “When Maddie invited Faith over for a girls’ night, did you really think I wasn’t on my way here for the same?”  
  
“I don’t want to do a girls’ night, Case,” he said tiredly, turning and heading back into the kitchen.  
  
“Too bad, Snyder,” Casey followed him, leaving Hunter to shut the door. “I’m not gonna braid your hair, but we are gonna talk. As long as we have to. Because... Jesus, is that thing open?” Casey reached past him to snatch up the bottle of vodka. “Are you crazy, you asshole?”  
  
“Casey,” he started to explain, even though he had no idea what he was going to say next.  
  
With Casey, that never mattered. He shoved the bottle into Hunter’s hands. “Dump this out in the sink and throw away the bottle,” he ordered. Hunter scrambled away, and he turned back to Luke. “Living room. Now.”  
  
Luke felt lifeless and listless as he obeyed. Part of him wanted Casey to yell. He needed someone to yell. (Noah hadn’t yelled. Noah had locked his door.) Casey directed him to the couch and sat down next to him. “God, Luke, you can’t,” he shook his head. “You can’t do that. I may not know what you’re going through, and I’m sorry, but you can’t do that.”  
  
“Casey,” his throat was so scratchy. It already felt like he’d drank all the vodka in the world. It weighed down his body, real or not. “In... In some ways, this is worse than last time.”  
  
Casey closed his eyes for a second, remembering how things had been ‘last time.’ The last time he’d lost someone. It had taken Casey, Aaron, and Holden to get him through that. “Worse?” he asked softly.  
  
“I love Noah,” it was the first time he’d said it out loud, and the fact that it wasn’t  _to_  Noah felt like a hole ripping through his chest. “More than... than anything. I love him. And I screwed it up. I didn’t lose him to a freak accident, I did this myself. I knew what I was doing and didn’t try to... I caused this. And I didn’t have to.”  
  
“Okay,” Casey still spoke softly, nodding to Hunter as he sat down across from them with some bottles of water. “I’m so sorry. I know you loved- love him. I know it. Anyone with half a brain knows it.” Hunter nodded to prove his point. “We’ll figure something out. Just, promise me you won’t drink. Punch yourself in the face, punch me in the face, just don’t drink.”  
  
The look on his face must have asked ‘why not’ pretty obviously, because even Hunter interpreted it correctly. “Noah loves you too,” he said. “The way Faith described it, he really really does. And it wouldn’t make wh-what he’s going through any easier if you hurt yourself.” Quieter, “It wouldn’t help Faith either.”  
  
That shut him up. He closed his eyes, tipping his head back on the top of the couch. “I just...”  
  
“Can you at least wait until Maddie has the baby?” Casey asked. “Then I’ll be able to drink with you.”  
  
He attempted a laugh, Casey at least deserved that for trying. “I thought I’d prepared myself for this all blowing up in my face. But I didn’t, I guess. Not like this.”  
  
“I, um, feel like I should apologize for that,” Hunter spoke up again. “I didn’t know Emily was going to do that and not tell you. I would have stopped her.”  
  
Both he and Casey laughed this time, at the ideas of Hunter stopping anyone and Emily stopping anything. “I looked into it,” Casey added. “Technically, what she did was legal. Not ethical, of course, but legal. The draft was uploaded and saved on the company server. Company policies, etc etc.”  
  
Luke waved a hand tiredly. “It’s my fault. So much of it is.”  
  
They were quiet for a little while. “Have you tried calling him again?” Casey asked.  
  
He shook his head. “It’s not like he’d pick up.”  
  
“Still,” Casey insisted, almost confused, surprised. “He’d know you’re trying. That you haven’t, you know, given up on him.”  
  
“He probably wants me too,” he argued.  
  
Casey raised an eyebrow. “Of all the things he wants, I’d bet ‘Luke Snyder’ is pretty high up there on the list. Maybe not these circumstances, but dude- if even Hunter knows he loves you, the guy is probably all caught up in your web.”  
  
“Um, hey?” Hunter didn’t seem sure if he’d just been insulted or not.  
  
“Getting caught in my web got him really hurt,” Luke pointed out.  
  
“But how do you know that’s forever?” Casey sat forward, getting intense. “You lost Reid and couldn’t get him back. Are you really going to go the rest of your life not taking this opportunity? To lose someone you love and have the chance to try and be together again?”  
  
Both Hunter and Luke stared at Casey, impressed. “Wow,” Luke added.  
  
Casey blushed a little. “What? Maddie doesn’t love me just for this body, you know.” He shoved lightly at Luke’s shoulder, prodding. “Prove Noah’s history wrong. Don’t give up on him.”  
  
“O-okay,” Luke stuttered. He was suddenly terrified. It was like standing at the foot of a mountain, knowing how daunting the climb would be. But if Noah was the mountain (or the climb, either metaphor worked, Luke told himself), then he needed to take that first step. “I, uh, I think I’m going to go now. To Noah’s.”  
  
“Do you want us to come with you?” Hunter asked seriously.  
  
He almost laughed again. “No, I should do this with him alone. But thanks, Hunter.” He paused then. “Faith really likes goldfish, by the way.”  
  
Hunter froze. “Huh?”  
  
“Goldfish. She really likes them,” he said.  
  
Casey grinned next to him, pushing him towards the door. “Go. Call me at some point, or I’ll bring the cavalry. But go. We’ll show ourselves out.” Luke grabbed his keys, leaving to the sound of Hunter asking Casey where he could buy goldfish.  
  
***  
  
Noah’s front door was still locked, but he could see a light on through one shaded window. And, luckily, he knew where the spare key was. “Noah?” he called out carefully as he let himself in. No answer. But Luke could hear the TV on, and some movement in the living room. “Noah?”  
  
More movement, but it wasn’t Noah who appeared in the foyer. Napoleon bounded forward happily, sniffing and licking at his fingers as always. “Hey buddy,” he murmured, petting. “Nice to see you too.” At least Napoleon didn’t know what was going on. He’d probably bite him if he did. “We have some work to do, huh?”  
  
The old dog whined a little, nudging at Luke’s leg. Luke frowned. He  _did_  seem anxious. Following him into the living room quickly, Luke’s worry about being thrown out suddenly disappeared. He froze just inside the entranceway.  
  
Noah was sitting on his couch, facing the TV but not watching whatever was on. His face was still carefully blank. But in his hand was a half-empty bottle of-  
  
Luke didn’t stay still long enough to figure out what type of liquor. “No,” was all he was capable of saying. “No, no, no.” He rushed forward and grabbed the bottle out of Noah’s grip. “No, are you crazy?” (Casey would totally point out the irony right now. Luke just wanted to cry.)  
  
Noah almost seemed startled to see him. “Go away,” he said, voice hoarse.  
  
“You can’t drink!” he sounded like he was begging and so didn’t care. “You shouldn’t- you’ve been sober for seven years, you shouldn’t-”  
  
“It’ll make a great follow up article for you,” Noah smiled, and it was the ugliest smile Luke had ever seen. “If the abandoned son has an overdose, you can write-”  
  
He saw red. Or white. Both. He saw bright, burning colors, and a second later he threw the bottle as hard as he could. It smashed against the wall across from them, glass and liquor spraying all over. Napoleon howled for a second, worried, cowering in the far corner.  
  
But Luke just watched Noah. Noah, who finally reacted, flinching at the sound and looking up at Luke. So small and trying to hide. “Stop.”  
  
“Don’t. You. Dare,” Luke growled, unable to push back the sudden anger. “Don’t even joke about it. Hate me all you want, please, if it makes you feel better. But don’t even joke about- about...” he almost choked, shaking and glaring.  
  
“If it makes me feel better?” Noah stood up, swaying just the tiniest bit. But Luke and Napoleon noticed, the dog doing what Luke couldn’t- standing next to and supporting Noah. “Makes me feel better?” he asked again. “What the hell is supposed to make me feel better?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Luke whispered. He wished he did.  
  
“You used me,” Noah crossed his arms over his chest protectively. “Like everyone else. Get what they need and... and don’t want me anymore. But you... You’re worse than everyone else.”  
  
“Noah,” he tried.  
  
“No. Because you got me to care. You got me to think I- I was someone-” he sat back down heavily. “You got me to love you. I don’t understand why you’d take it that far. You could’ve just slept with me and disappeared. Why didn’t you?”  
  
“Because I couldn’t,” he said, coming in a little closer.  
  
Noah didn’t notice. “You made me tell you things about me no one should know. You- and, and Faith too? You didn’t just pretend you  _cared_ , you pretended you loved me.” He dropped his head into his hands.  
  
“I wasn’t pretending that,” Luke confessed, calmer than he thought he’d be. “It wasn’t a plan, Noah. It wasn’t even voluntary. I just love you. I can’t not.”  
  
“I don’t believe you,” he said, muffled, miserable.  
  
“I know,” he stepped up right next to the couch. “You probably shouldn’t. I deserve that. But I’m going to earn it back, I promise you. I’m not giving you up.”  
  
Noah shook for a second, and Luke couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and running a hand through his hair gently. Noah flinched away. “Don’t.”  
  
Luke held his hands up immediately, but didn’t step back. “I can’t leave you, and I can’t let you go.”  
  
“Stop,” Noah said again, but his voice wavered a lot more this time. Napoleon watched them both with sad, worried eyes, tail thumping against the floor as he leaned into Noah, doing what he’d always been taught to do. Steady comfort.  
  
“I-” Luke stopped, started again. “I won’t try to talk to you or touch you tonight if you don’t want me to, but I can’t leave. Especially if you’ve been drinking. It isn’t safe, Noah.”  
  
He still wouldn’t look up. “I don’t think I care,” he admitted.  
  
Luke sat down next to him, as close as he dared. “I do,” he said simply. They stayed where they were, so painfully still, for a long time- minutes ticking away, one old movie on screen ending and another beginning.  
  
Luke finally stood up and went into the kitchen, refilling Napoleon’s bowls, getting a bottle of water for Noah and coffee for himself. He debated making grilled cheese, but didn’t want to fill the house with smoke. Instead he threw together some peanut butter and jelly and headed back to the living room.  
  
Noah had finally moved too. He was lying fully on the couch, one arm curled and covering his head, maybe hiding from Luke, maybe asleep.  
  
Napoleon was stretched out on the floor beside him, watching Luke. “I know, buddy,” he whispered, setting the water and sandwich on the side table. “We’ll figure this out.” He hoped. Napoleon flopped back down and closed his eyes, so Luke hoped he had the dog’s approval.  
  
He laid a blanket over Noah, wanting to kiss his forehead but not wanting to break his earlier promise. He compromised by squeezing his shoulder, rubbing his back for just a moment. Then he cleaned up the mess he’d made (and wasn’t that appropriate), sweeping up the broken bottle, soaking up the liquor that had spilled. His hands almost shook as he threw it away, that smell would always get to him. It would always mean failure to him.  
  
He shoved it defiantly out of his mind, got his coffee, and sat down on the floor next to Napoleon, eyes but not mind on the TV screen. He settled in for the night. He wasn’t going anywhere.  
  
***  
  
Maddie eyed the place skeptically. “Are you sure about this?”  
  
Faith nodded. “I have to try.” After a night of ice cream and crying and hugs and advice, her eyes and mind were a little more clear. Brand new day and all that.  
  
Maddie wasn’t as confident. “I have a feeling one, possibly two, blond oafs might disagree with you.”  
  
She shrugged. “Don’t care.” Hunter had found the address for her this morning. He’d kept trying to bring up fish for some reason too. She filed that away for later thought- maybe ‘fish’ was some nerd-code she didn’t know. But now, right now, she was on a mission.  
  
Leaving Maddie in the car outside, Faith entered the apartment building, smiling sweetly when an old guy held the door open for her. She found apartment 3C and knocked confidently. Her knees were absolutely not shaking. Not at all.  
  
The woman who answered looked nothing like she’d been picturing. Petite and blonde, hard edges and cool. Not Noah.  
  
Except for her eyes. Which narrowed suspiciously at Faith. “No comment,” she started to slam the door.  
  
“No, wait!” Faith tried to stop it from shutting. “Please, I’m not a reporter or a... anything, really.” She was guessing she was out of an assistant job.  
  
Charlene Wilson paused but didn’t exactly soften. “What do you want?”  
  
Faith took a deep breath. “I’m Luke Snyder’s sister.”  
  
“Oh, by all means, come in then,” Charlene snapped. “Is that supposed to be more appealing?”  
  
“Hey, I’m telling you the truth!” she argued.  
  
“You’re the only Snyder who does, then,” Charlene fired back.  
  
Faith didn’t glare, because it was and wasn’t true. “Please, I just want to... I don’t know, apologize on his behalf. He’s suffering because of this too.”  
  
“Because Emily Stewart didn’t let him polish his masterpiece before publishing it for the world to read?” she snorted. “My condolences to him.”  
  
“It’s way more than that. It’s nothing to  _do_  with that,” Faith got closer, blocking the door. “He and Noah- they were together. Not just a little bit. For real, head over heels, the both of them. Until this happened.”  
  
Charlene faltered. Just a little. “So much for Snyder not getting involved in his work,” she muttered.  
  
Faith tried to smile. “I know you haven’t met him, but it’s hard not to once you know Noah.”  
  
She flinched. “You met him too?”  
  
“Yeah,” Faith tried not to let herself fidget. “I worked for him. Until...”  
  
“Boy,” Charlene laughed harshly. “When you Snyders screw up, you go all out, don’t you?”  
  
“We go all out in making up for it too,” she replied. “Noah’s more important to Luke than anything. That’s where he is right now.” Casey’s midnight phone call had been awesome and terrifying. So had Luke’s text message update. It felt like they were all waiting for Noah to wake up and do... something.  
  
She focused back on Noah’s mother. “So I’m doing what I can. I’m sorry Luke didn’t tell you everything. I’m sorry he couldn’t let go of what must be a really painful subject for you. I hope everything works out okay for you.” Faith smiled a little awkwardly and turned to leave.  
  
She’d made it five steps when Charlene’s voice called after her. “Wait.”  
  
She turned back, surprised. “Yes?”  
  
Charlene’s door was still open, and now she opened it a little wider. Like maybe an invitation. “Can you... can you tell me a little about Noah?”  
  
Faith smiled and walked in.  
  
***  
  
He didn’t wake up fast or slow, light or heavy. He was just awake. One second asleep and away from the world, the next second awake. He kept still, blinking the blurriness out of his vision, and then almost jumped, startled. A very large, wrinkly, slobbery head was perched on the couch cushion he was lying on, inches from his face. Staring at him.  
  
Noah fought back a groan. “Not now, big guy,” he whispered. His throat was dry, scratchy, burning. A burn he hadn’t felt in... Noah wanted to throw up. That taste in the back of his throat was  _wrong_ , more than anything. Ugly. Shameful.  
  
He was a pretty stupid person, wasn’t he? Seven years not even tempted to drink or take anything, and he ruins that because of some guy? It was pathetic. He wished he felt more hungover. Not just sick, but in pain. Some kind of pain, anything. He deserved to feel something like that right now.  
  
The thing was, Noah knew what he eventually had to do. Put his head down and soldier on. Get through this. It was what he did, he soldiered on. He kept working, kept smiling politely at people as he held doors open for them, kept paying his bills on time, kept taking care of his car and his dog, kept on going. Eventually. He knew he’d have to.  
  
But right now, that was too far off. Too hard. Too... Noah ducked his head back down onto the couch cushion, reaching out to pet Napoleon and rub his ears. He didn’t really want to do anything else ever again.  
  
And then there was the sound of footsteps off to the side of the room. And then Luke was standing in the doorway across from him.  
  
They stared at each other for a minute. Noah had to admit, part of him was more than a little surprised that Luke was still there. Why was he? To smooth things over? Make sure Noah wouldn't sue the paper? Make sure he- "How are you feeling?" Luke asked softly, tentatively.  
  
"A lot and empty," he mumbled, surprised at his own honesty. Luke flinched hard but didn't leave. He didn't walk away. Noah's confusion turned to frustration quickly. "Why are you here?"  
  
Luke shoved his hands into his pockets, in a gesture that Noah had once found exceedingly adorable. He bit the inside of his cheek to not react, waiting for whatever Luke's excuse would be this time. "I- I wanted... I needed to see you through the night. Okay? If this is the last time we- if you kick me out and don't want to see me ever again, I needed one last night." He deflated back against the door jamb. "Okay?"  
  
"So this is all up to me?" he tried to keep his voice as even as possible. "That's so nice. That so makes up for lying to me and playing me for... Not even a fool. A cheap date. Sleep with me just so you can-"  
  
"None of this was supposed to happen!" Luke burst out, stepping into the room. "Not me meeting you, not me talking to you or... or  _falling_  for you. I swear, Noah, I really-"  
  
"Then why didn't you say anything? You could've told me the truth a thousand times. The Luke I thought I was in love with would have told me anything. You're not that guy," Noah accidentally glared at Napoleon, but that was only because he couldn't get himself to fully look at Luke yet.  
  
Luke was quiet for awhile. Out of the corner of his eye, Noah watched him hesitate, take a few steps closer, hesitate again. “I didn’t lie about me.”  
  
“Yes you did,” Noah pushed himself up and up, sitting on the far end of the couch. He tapped the cushion, and Napoleon immediately jumped up to join him, arranging himself on Noah’s lap. A good barrier.  
  
Luke still came closer anyway. “Okay, about... about  _that_ , yeah. I did. I’m so sorry. But what I meant was- about me? The stories I told you, things I like, the things I’m scared of, what I feel about you?” Somehow Luke was sitting on the other end of the couch now, facing him. “Those were-  _are_ \- all real.”  
  
 _I don’t know if I can believe you,_  he wanted to say. “You know me,” he said instead.  
  
“Yeah,” Luke seemed confused, but confirmed it immediately, surely.  
  
It shouldn’t have felt good to hear that. Noah told himself to snap out of it. So he kept talking. “You know I don’t trust people easily.”  
  
“I know,” Luke said. “And I know I was lucky to be one of those people. And I was stupid to throw it away for a story.”  
  
“Charlene,” Noah added. His mother. Alive and well and apparently living nearby. All this time. He wanted to ask Luke so many things. Everything. (He didn’t want to ask her anything.)  
  
“Yeah,” Luke said again. And that was all he said. Despite everything, Noah had to appreciate that.  
  
“How did you see this going when you started... dating me?” he asked.  
  
Luke let out a breath slowly, too soft to be a sigh. “I wasn’t thinking that far ahead. At least not in that way.” He shook his head. “Having the cake, eating it too, etc. etc.”  
  
“I was the cake?” he asked, a little bitterness and a little hysterical humor in his voice.  
  
“No,” Luke admitted softly. “Us together was the cake.” He turned to fully face Noah head on. “I wasn’t playing house with you. It wasn’t a game. I- I’d never  _disrespect_  you like that.” He was quiet again. “I don’t usually get the cake, Noah. I wasn’t prepared for this.”  
  
“You can’t act like that makes it okay to lie to me and use what I feel for you to get a story.”  _Feel? Felt?_  
  
“I know,” Luke ran a hand through his hair, unknowingly spiking it up even more. Noah felt another hysterical laugh wind through his chest. He fought it back down. “I’ll tell you I’m sorry for as long as it takes.”  
  
“Takes for what?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking.  
  
Luke blinked, not expecting that question. “I... As long as it takes for you do be okay.” He shrugged. “That sounds stupid. Not that you’re not okay. I just... as long as it takes for you to not be like you were last night.”  
  
Noah swallowed hard. He could still taste the bourbon and couldn’t stop a shudder. “Yeah.”  
  
Luke’s hand on the couch cushion twitched, as though he wanted to reach for Noah, touch him. But he didn’t. “I can maybe live in a world where we’re not together. But I can’t live in a world without you in it.”  
  
His eyes stung suddenly. No, no, no. He didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to feel anything at hearing that. He didn’t want to know Luke felt that. “What..” he swallowed again. “What did you mean before, when you said you hadn’t thought ahead in that way?”  
  
Luke actually laughed, even though it sounded as hysterical as Noah felt. “I always seem to think I live in a reality where things are supposed to go my way.” Another laugh. “It always pisses me off when that doesn’t happen.” Napoleon stretched his leg out to land on Luke’s lap, startling him, bringing him back to his explanation. “So I never planned for this going wrong. Just right.”  
  
“Right?” Noah felt frozen. He’d be numb if his stupid eyes wouldn’t stop burning.  
  
“You meeting my friends, maybe my family,” Luke finally looked away from him. “Faith working for you- she loves it here, she really does. And- and you and I going to Chicago for dinner, Thai food, remember? And for-” he stopped. “You had me thinking of holidays and birthdays and how I’d fit Napoleon in my apartment when you both stayed over for a weekend.”  
  
“Luke,” Noah protested weakly.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he was shaking as much as Noah. “I’m sorry I let this all get so carried away and hurt you. But, but I don’t know if I can be sorry for the good things that happened between us. Because I love you. I’m not sorry I love you, I just...” he turned just his face towards Noah, shoulders tense. “I’m sorry it’s not enough.”  
  
Noah scrubbed at his face with a hand, trying to will away his pounding headache, his tears. “It’s not that it’s not enough,” he murmured.  _It’s everything._  “I just can’t... I thought things were a certain way. I trusted them to be. And they’re not. I’m not good at- I finally believed in those ‘good things’, Luke. And they were based on a lie. I feel like I’m back at square one and everything’s wrong.”  
  
Luke gave them another minute of silence, catching his breath. “What do you want, Noah? Really want, right here and now?”  
  
He bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth. “You.”  
  
He heard Luke’s sharp inhale. “You do?”  
  
He nodded, still looking down at the dog. “But I don’t know if I can just let you back in. Part of me wants to. A lot. Part of me really believes everything you’ve said.”  
  
“The other part?”  
  
“The other part knows there’s another bottle hidden in my studio.”  
  
“God, Noah,” Luke did reach out then, over Napoleon, and snagged his sleeve. “Where is it?” his voice got steady, firm.  
  
“The freezer, behind the ice trays,” he answered without a fight. Luke’s hand tightened on his sleeve. “That part of me is just waiting for you to leave so I can-”  
  
“ _No_ ,” Luke shook his arm. “I’ll get rid of it before I go. And I’m not leaving until I know I can.” He didn’t let go of Noah’s arm. Noah didn’t pull away. “Is there, um, someone you can call? A sponsor, or...” he shrugged, a little helpless.  
  
Noah nodded. “Yeah. And I will.” Luke nodded back. Didn’t let go. He didn’t pull away. “I believe you.”  
  
Luke’s head whipped upwards painfully fast. “What?”  
  
“I believe you.” He continued on when Luke looked like he was about to speak. “But right now, it’s not right. We can’t be like we were, not right now. Everything’s upside down for me. And with what happened last night, I need-” he softened his voice. “I need to get everything clear again. I can’t be with you when I do that.”  
  
He expected Luke to argue. “You said for right now,” Luke pointed out carefully instead.  
  
Noah managed to glance at him for just a second before he had to look away again. “I know.”  
  
They were quiet. It was like they had to take time to rest between exchanging words. It was exhausting. Then Luke nodded, just as careful. “That’s more than I can hope for. And I want you to take the time you need. I can wait, I promise. I want...” he stopped to think about his words. “I want you happy.”  
  
“I was happy with you,” Noah whispered.  
  
“Then I’ll wait until I can make you happy again,” he whispered right back.  
  
That voice that had been in Noah’s brain, insisting this was all still just a trick, finally went silent. Noah could breathe a little easier. Of course, that just brought his hangover back full force. He rubbed at his headache again, wincing.  
  
“I made coffee,” Luke noticed the wince. “And toast. Didn’t even burn it. I left it in the kitchen for you.”  
  
He nodded. “Thanks.” More quiet.  
  
Then Luke stood up, stretching sore muscles (he’d stayed there all night, Noah remembered). “I’ll get you some aspirin. You should probably eat first, though. Then I’ll, uh, get out of your way. Just make sure you call your sponsor, okay? I’ll get rid of that other-”  
  
“Luke?” Noah stood up too, wobbling but shooing away Napoleon. Luke turned, stopping mid-ramble. “Be-before you go, could you just, um...” he held out one arm, unsure, unable, unwilling to ask.  
  
But Luke knew. He stepped forward gently, but pulled Noah into his arms fiercely. They leaned into each other, Noahs’ arms shaking for only a second before they wrapped around Luke. He closed his eyes, dropping his face to Luke’s shoulder, feeling Luke do the same. They stayed that way for awhile. Too long or not long enough.  
  
Then Luke pulled back half an inch, maybe less. He kissed Noah’s cheek. “I love you.”  
  
Noah believed him.  
  
***

“ _Really? A real office now and everything?”  
  
“Yeah, I think Emily might actually feel guilty about this.”  
  
“I don’t think she promoted you just because of that.”  
  
“I hope not.”  
  
“She didn’t. You’re a great reporter, that’s why.”  
  
“I guess I’ll have to believe you. You- you sound good today. You’re feeling... okay?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Did your sponsor yell at you about drinking?”  
  
“Malcolm’s not really a yeller. But we talked. A lot.”  
  
“So you’re really okay?”  
  
“I’m doing better, Luke. That’s really all I can say.”  
  
“That’s all I can ask for.”_  
  
***  
  
“ _Faith said you guys talked yesterday?”  
  
“Yeah. It, um, it went okay. I guess.”  
  
“She can’t stop taking pictures, I hope you know. She misses the job a lot, I think. And you. We don’t talk about it much, but I can feel it.”  
  
“She said your mom and dad are fighting a lot again. Is everything okay?”  
  
“Nice deflection there, Mayer.”  
  
“Right back at you, Snyder.”  
  
“Okay, look, Faith thinks she’s all world-weary and knowing now, but she’s still naive about our parents. They’re going to break up again. I mean, they’ll get back together again too, but it’s never going to be smooth sailing for them.”  
  
“So you’re the one who’s world-weary and knowing?”  
  
“Yeah. Sometimes way more than I want to be.”  
  
“You should cut them some slack though. If they love each other that much, that they keep fighting their way back to each other...”  
  
“I know. I guess. I’ve been talking to them more often lately. Since... since, you know. I’ve needed them to tell me when not to do something stupid. I guess I’ll always need that, huh?”  
  
“Hey Luke?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I miss you guys too.”_  
  
***  
  
“ _I’m on my way.”  
  
“No, Luke, you-”  
  
“Where are you? Is there a hospital in town, or did you have to-”  
  
“Luke. It’s fine. He’s just... he’s old, you know? The vet says he’ll have to rest the leg for a little while, but it’ll heal. You don’t have to drive out here.”  
  
“Napoleon weighs as much as you do, Noah. How are you going to cart him around and make sure he doesn’t break the leg again?”  
  
“Some- some people in town volunteered to help out. I don’t know why, but... A couple of men here have hunting dogs, they know how to take care of big guys like Napoleon. It’ll be fine.”  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m fine. Promise.”  
  
“...Why did you call me, then?”  
  
“I just, um, wanted to hear your voice. I’m okay now.”_  
  
***  
  
“ _Hmm.... Fiji, I think. I’ve never been to Fiji. It sounds nice and exotic. No one there who knows me. I’ll buy a hut on the beach and write a novel. Drink coconut milk, or whatever, all day. Get a real tan.”  
  
“One problem with that scenario.”  
  
“Just one?”  
  
“That I can think of. Huts don’t usually come with electrical outlets. How is your hair going to survive without a blow dryer?”  
  
“I hate you, Mayer.”  
  
“No you don’t.”  
  
“No, I don’t. Your turn.”  
  
“Anywhere But Here? I- I don’t know.”  
  
“I think you do. And don’t say Hollywood.”  
  
“I wasn’t going to.”  
  
“A-ha! Which means you were going to say somewhere. So spill.”  
  
“I don’t know. I should say like, studying film in Prague or... I moved around a lot as a kid, you know that. Lived in bases, in so many different states and countries. I- I don’t know. I want to go to a small town. A real house, with real people in it. Cook a real dinner, or go to a barbeque, go to a park, or... I don’t know, this is stupid, I told you, I don’t-”  
  
“Noah.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You know I know a place like that, right?”  
  
“Yeah. I know.”_  
  
***  
  
“No, Mom, I promise we’ll come for the weekend.” Luke rubbed at his forehead, reminding himself that this was a good thing. Family dinners were good things.  
  
“Your grandmother- both of them, actually- will be very happy to hear that.” He could hear her happy smile over the phone and relaxed a little more. It was a good thing. “Faith said she’d bake something to bring for dinner. I had no idea she even cooked.”  
  
“Me either,” he admitted. “But she’s pretty good at it. Between that and photography, I think she’s got a whole, you know, life. Skill sets and stuff.”  
  
“Funny, dear,” Lily sighed in that tired, fond way that only mothers could. “And what is her skill set up to tonight that she couldn’t talk to me?”  
  
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Luke sat back, propping his feet up on his coffee table. “She and Maddie have this weekly ‘Girls Night’ thing that I really don’t want to know the details of.”  
  
“Fine, fine,” Lily laughed a little before growing serious again. “I’m glad you two are doing so well up there, honey. We’re all proud of you, you know that, right?”  
  
He smiled. “I do.” The buzzer to his apartment sounded, cutting him off. “My dinner’s here, Mom, I gotta go. Faith and I will be at the farm on Saturday, okay?” He hit the button, letting the delivery guy up. “Love you.”  
  
“Love you too, honey. Bye.”  
  
Luke slid his phone into his back pocket, keeping it nearby at all times now. Just in case someone might call. Someone who usually called on Thursday nights, because Luke usually took Fridays to travel around the city for interviews and such, and didn’t have to wake up as early. So they could spend more of the night before talking...  
  
He opened his front door, leaning against it to wait for the delivery guy. Until Noah called, he planned on moping into his pizza, pretending he wasn’t counting down the minutes until 8:57, which seemed to be the exact time Noah called every week. ( _Noah_  called  _him_  now. Silence and distance didn’t stretch between them, like it had when Luke first came back to Chicago and wasn’t sure if he was allowed to check on him. Tentative, short, awkward conversations became regular calls. And now Noah was calling him regularly. It was-)  
  
The elevator dinged at the end of the hallway. Luke put his polite smile on, digging through his wallet for cash. “Hi, sorry, I hope you have change for...” he looked up and the polite smile disappeared.  
  
“Um,” Noah shrugged. “I ran into the guy in the lobby and paid him.” He gave a careful, almost scared, half-smile. “You owe me twenty bucks.”  
  
Luke gaped at him. “Screw the twenty bucks.” He rushed forward, grabbed the box out of Noah’s hands and dropped it to the floor. “I’ll give you more than that.” He went in for a kiss but changed course at the last second, pulling Noah into a hug instead, wrapping his arms so tight around him.  
  
To his insanely huge relief, Noah hugged him back, his arms slinging low around Luke’s waist, fingers digging and twisting into his shirt. Luke ran one hand up to the back of Noah’s head, weaving his fingers into his hair, reminding himself he couldn’t actually  _pet_  Noah, even if he wanted to.  
  
And he really, really wanted to.  
  
He felt Noah’s sigh (happiness? relief?) in his own chest and couldn’t stop smiling. He hugged him tighter for a long moment, then slowly, regrettably, pulled back to look at Noah’s face. “Hi.”  
  
Noah’s face was flushed and his eyes were bright, as bright as Luke had ever seen them. “Hi. You dropped your pizza.”  
  
“Guess how much I care,” he murmured, eyes taking all of Noah in. He looked a little thinner, but Luke couldn’t tell if that was just a trick of his mind after not seeing him for so long. But his face was clear and lighter and... and he looked good. “Want to come inside?”  
  
Noah swallowed hard and nodded, waiting for Luke to pick the pizza back up and grab his hand, leading him into the apartment. They were pretty much silent on their way to the kitchen, but the second Luke turned to set the pizza on the table, Noah moved close again, hugging him from behind, arms warm and perfect around him.  
  
Luke closed his eyes, leaning back, and somehow just kinda knew Noah had closed his too. “Hungry?”  
  
Noah shook his head. “Not particularly.”  
  
He grinned. “I should rephrase. Have you eaten yet today?”  
  
There was a pause, then a very quiet and petulant, “No.”  
  
The grin turned into a laugh. “That’s what I thought.” He turned around in Noah’s arms, looping his around Noah’s neck. “Work or nerves?”  
  
“A little of both,” he confessed, blushing. “I’m not so good at being spontaneous.”  
  
He still wanted to kiss him. Badly. He settled for leaning up and pressing his lips to Noah’s forehead softly. “I think it went pretty well this time.” He brought his hands down to gather Noah’s, squeezing. “Eat dinner with me. Then we’ll talk.”  
  
The pizza was only slightly smushed from its fall, so they sat together on the floor by the coffee table, snacking away. Luke pressed his big toe into Noah’s calf. “You look, um, lighter.”  
  
Noah didn’t even make fun of him for that. “I feel it. I think I, you know, got things sorted in my head.” He ducked his head, blushing. “Priorities and stuff.”  
  
“Priorities?” he tried to keep any inflection of any kind in any way out of his voice. He wasn’t hopeful, he wasn’t nervous, he wasn’t scared or confused. None of those things. Nope.  
  
“Maybe focusing on just work for so long wasn’t the best thing for me,” he wasn’t quite looking at Luke, just over his shoulder instead. That silly half-smile in place. “And maybe I should be making room in my life for other things. People.”  
  
“People?” Luke pressed a little, using his toe again for emphasis.  
  
“You,” Noah amended. And then, amending even more, “And Faith, and Ameera and her-  _my_  family, and my neighbors, and friends from school I’ve kinda been neglecting.” He shrugged, embarrassed. “So many bad things happened, I just found it easier to not look at any of it.”  
  
“Hard to do when you’re a photographer,” he said, scooting a little closer, their sides pressed together.  
  
“Easy to do,” Noah corrected. “I get to hide all the time.” He shrugged again, but the easy way in which he did it, in which he spoke, kept Luke from worrying (too much). “I- I didn’t realize how bad it was for me until you came along.” He bit his lip. “And how much worse it’d be when you were gone.”  
  
Luke held still for a moment. Then he slowly turned, laying his legs across Noah’s lap, facing him sideways. “I’m not gone now.”  
  
Noah finally looked at him, half-smile back. “Me either.”  
  
He hesitated for two seconds, if that. Then he reached out to hold Noah’s face in both hands, leaned in and kissed him softly. “I missed you,” he whispered against Noah’s lips, not willing to pull back.  
  
Noah didn’t pull back either, so when his mouth quirked up into a smile, so did Luke’s. “Missed you too.” He tilted his chin just a little, just enough to bring another kiss out of Luke, longer this time. Deeper. “Missed everything.”  
  
They never did finish the pizza.  
  
***  
  
Someone was watching him. Noah realized it the second he woke up. He held still, taking stock of himself and his surroundings. He wasn’t used to waking up in unfamiliar places. But then he smiled a little and opened his eyes, remembering. “Morning.”  
  
Luke grinned right back. “Morning.” He was sitting up against the headboard, coffee in one and, newspaper across his lap.  
  
Noah rolled onto his back, looking up at him. “I never pegged you as an early riser,” he inched over until his head was resting against Luke’s leg, almost dislodging the paper.  
  
Luke rolled his eyes a little, petting Noah’s hair with his free hand. “I like to keep you guessing. Besides, farmboy, remember?”  
  
“I remember,” Noah said softly. He rolled again, into Luke, draping an arm across his legs almost possessively. _Mine_. “Everything.”  
  
“Good and bad?” Luke asked, almost nervous.  
  
Noah nodded against Luke’s thigh. “But that’s okay. You know that, right? I... I remember bad things for good reasons.”  
  
Luke’s fingers twisted playfully in his hair. “So I’m a good reason?”  
  
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he lectured, straight-faced, until Luke tugged on a few strands of hair. Then he turned his head, laying a kiss to Luke’s knee. “You’re a good reason. And anyway, you’re not a bad thing.”  
  
Luke’s answering smile was wide, beautiful, and Noah was suddenly breathless. “Baby, that’s a really roundabout way of saying you’re happy,” he repeated those words from weeks earlier, only half-teasing.  
  
“Hey Luke?” Noah reached up to the back of Luke’s neck, pulling him down into a messy, sweet, almost upside down kiss. “I’m happy.”  
  
“Me too.” If Luke’s voice cracked a little there, they both ignored it.  
  
Noah finally sat up, draping himself around Luke’s side, resting his chin on Luke’s shoulder. “Good thing.” He read the paper with Luke, slowly sneaking his arms around his waist.  
  
Luke leaned his head to the side, knocking it gently into Noah’s. “Hey.”  
  
“Hmm?” his arms went a little farther.  
  
Luke turned his head, kissed Noah’s cheek. “You’re not getting my coffee.”  
  
Noah went still. “Luke,” he protested. Not whined. He didn’t whine. Or pout.  
  
“Nope,” Luke grinned again.”There’s some out in the kitchen, if you want it that badly.”  
  
“I’m going to remember this too,” he warned, pulling his arms away (but slowly, of course. He was only human.)  
  
Luke kissed him again, loud and exaggerated. “Well, I hope you remember where the kitchen is.”  
  
Noah grumbled, taking his time unfolding his body and climbing out of bed, stretching sore muscles (and remembering good things). “Coffee maker?”  
  
Luke nodded, taking a sip of own mug to unsuccessfully hide his ogling of Noah. Noah couldn’t stop his blush, but also kinda didn’t care. “Oh, and breakfast will probably be delivered soon, so you might want to, you know, put on some clothes. Pants, at least.”  
  
He was absolutely still not blushing when he poured a cup of coffee in the kitchen, now wearing sweatpants that were maybe an inch or two too short and an Oakdale University shirt. Whatever, it’s not like anyone else would see him, right?  
  
His answer was the sound of a key going into the lock and the front door opening. In the seconds after, as he belatedly wondered if he should hide or run or yell for Luke, he realized who it was that probably had a key to Luke’s apartment.  
  
And then Faith was there, holding a bag of what smelled like fresh bagels. She froze in the doorway of the kitchen, a mix of shock and relief and guilt and hope going across her face with impressive speed. Then she tentatively waved. “Hey boss.”  
  
“Hey Faith,” he said softly, smiling a little, He was suddenly and confusingly nervous.  
  
She relaxed a little at the smile, setting the bagels down on a counter and sitting down at the table, relaxing even more when he took the seat across from her. “So you, um, came over for breakfast?” she asked, trying to keep an innocent expression on her face.  
  
He was very glad Luke had made him put clothes on. “Maybe,” he said defensively, mock-glaring at her. His own uneasiness melted away at the happy look on her face. “We’re okay,” he added gently.  
  
She raised an eyebrow. “You and Luke or you and me?”  
  
Another smile. “Me and every Snyder.”  
  
She opened the bag of bagels and slid one across the table to him. “I miss the studio.”  
  
“We miss you too,” he said. “I’m, um, I haven’t re-filled the position.” He glanced at her. “If you’re, you know-”  
  
“I am,” she said quickly. “Noah, working for you was the first time I felt... like I was  _doing_  something. Worthwhile, I mean. I really liked...” she trailed off with a shrug. “It was a great job, Noah. I’d- I’d like to come back if I can.”  
  
“You can,” he assured. “My emails are all screwed up now, I kinda need you.” He lifted one shoulder, going for nonchalant. “Plus, I’ve been getting these job offers that could probably use an extra eye and extra camera, if you ever wanted to-”  
  
Faith was out of her chair and around the table so fast, he barely registered the move. “I do, I really do,” she said in a rush, even as she threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him sideways out of his chair. “I really... I’m so glad you’re here.”  
  
He hugged her back.”Me too.”  
  
“Hey,” Luke was leaning oh so casually, oh so I-wasn’t-eavesdropping-but-yes-I-was, in the doorway. “You’ve already got a boyfriend. Leave mine alone, Ace.”  
  
Faith pulled back to glare at him, but Noah was staring wide-eyed at her. “What? You have a boyfriend?”  
  
“ _No,_ ” she said pointedly, still glaring at her brother. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just my...guy I’m dating. Sort of. A little.”  
  
“Wait,” Noah barely noticed Luke take the seat next to him, ruffling his hair as he did. “Is it the computer guy? He finally succeeding in wooing you?”  
  
“Luke!” Faith threw her hands dramatically into the air. It was such a familiar and missed gesture that Noah wasn’t sure if he was smiling more at that or at how embarrassed she was. “How much did you tell him?!”  
  
“Just a few things, here and there,” Luke grinned, unconcerned, getting his own bagel and propping his legs up in Noah’s lap.  
  
Faith’s glare didn’t let up, even when she turned to Noah. “Did he tell you everything? Did he tell you about the fish?”  
  
“The fish?” Noah repeated, one hand unconsciously rubbing circles into Luke’s ankle.  
  
“The fish.” Faith crossed her arms. “Luke told Hunter that I like goldfish.”  
  
“You do,” Noah pointed out. “You ate them at the studio all the time.” He’d taken to buying them on his grocery runs so they’d always have some for her.  
  
Luke was trying very hard not to laugh now. Faith continued to glare. “Yeah, well, it probably would’ve helped if Luke had told him that I like the goldfish  _crackers_. And not...” she pointed behind him.  
  
Noah turned and saw a fish bowl near the window. With a real, live goldfish swimming in it. Somehow he’d missed that last night. “Oh.”  
  
“Yeah.  _Oh,_ ” Faith shook her head, pointedly ignored Luke, who wasn’t bothering to hide his laugh anymore. “I mean, it’s sweet, he meant well, and Lafayette is cute and all,but... I hate my brother,” she concluded. She went over to the bowl to feed her new pet.  
  
Noah’ brain caught up with her words. “Isn’t Lafayette the name of the other dog in  _The Aristocats_?”  
  
Quieter laughter from Luke, softer. “Told you he’d get it,” he announced, hugging Noah to him. Noah leaned into him willingly, not stopping the smile, but kept his eyes on Faith.  
  
She pointed at Luke. “You shut up. I still hate you.” Then she looked to Noah. “And yeah, maybe it was on TV or something,” she teased. “Maybe I missed Napoleon, too.”  
  
“He’ll be happy to see you,” he said. “He’s spending the weekend with one of my neighbors, but Monday, if you-”  
  
“I’ll be there,” she promised. “Someone has to keep an eye on things over there,” she sighed, teasing again.  
  
He felt Luke’s smile too. “Definitely.” he pulled them even closer together, tucking his face into Noah’s neck, kissing him. “Especially since the boss is going to be pretty busy for awhile. And by busy, I mean-”  
  
“OhmyGodifyouwantmetoleavejust _say_ so,” Faith burst out in one breath, hurriedly grabbing her purse away. “This is just so inappropriate, I can’t even-”  
  
“Hey,” Noah pulled out of Luke’s hold just enough to snag her wrist, pausing her tirade. (Snyders were good at those, he made a note.) “I’ll see you Monday?”  
  
She looked at him, smiled wide and happy, and nodded. “Monday.” She pointed at Luke again. “Don’t kill my fish or my boss,” she warned before hurrying out with a slam of the front door.  
  
Noah turned back to Luke and pulled, bringing Luke into his lap so they were facing each other. “You heard her. No killing me.”  
  
Luke’s arms went around his neck, hands sliding through his hair. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, his eyes darting up and down and up Noah’s face. “I’ve got better things in mind.” Noah pulled again, Luke’s mouth meeting his. Slow at first, then not so slow. He could think of better things too.  
  
***  
  
 **One month later...**  
  
She didn’t necessarily look nervous, but Luke wasn’t necessarily a fool. He wouldn’t even be surprised if she knew why he was here. “Luke,” she greeted with nod, not warm but not unfriendly either.  
  
“Hi, Charlene,” he sat in the booth, the one he had reserved in the far corner of the cafe. “Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”  
  
She nodded again, giving nothing else away. “Your sister has done a good job of pleading your case, I guess.”  
  
“Apparently,” he said.  _And Noah’s case too,_  he added in his head. When Faith and Maddie had told them what they’d done (and had continued to do for the next couple weeks), he was actually surprised at how not-mad he and Noah were.  
  
It was the missing piece of this puzzle.  
  
He looked her square in the eye. “I’m not here for another story, or to beg for more forgiveness. I’m not here for me at all.”  
  
She was still for a fraction of a second, and then her eyes flashed with realization.”He’s here, isn’t he?” He could see her fight the urge to look around.  
  
He nodded. “Outside in the car with Faith. We’re taking him to my family’s farm for the weekend. For, um, for his birthday.” He hoped that wasn’t laying it on too thick, even though it was true. She didn’t really react to that (which, duh Snyder- she was there for his actual birth), so he continued. “We’re heading out either right now when I walk out of here, or... after he does.”  
  
“He knows I’m here?” she asked, voice as soft as he’d ever heard it.  
  
Luke nodded again. “But I don’t know what he’s expecting. If he’s expecting anything. This is your call, Charlene. If you want, I can go outside and send him in. Or I can start my weekend trip with my boyfriend now. We can try another time, or...or not at all.” Then he laid his hands flat on the table. “But you’d be stupid to pick door number three.”  
  
Charlene actually broke eye contact, glancing around the cafe as though she’d be able to see Noah through the walls. “He’s...?”  
  
“He’s good,” Luke said softly. “Great, actually He’s- he’d probably rather you pick the best option for you, not force anything, okay? He’s not expecting much.” Even quieter, “But he’s scared, of course. A little. I think.”  
  
Charlene traced the edge of her coffee cup, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. When she opened them, her eyes were clearer, determined. “I’d like to meet him.”  
  
Luke was almost surprised at the sudden tsunami of relief that crashed over him. “Okay. Good. Yes.” To keep from babbling and ruining this moment, he stood, stuffing his hands into his pockets and rocking on his feet. “I’ll go, um, get him. You’re sure?” He had to check. Had to.  
  
Charlene regarded him seriously, going for a calm she wasn’t quite feeling. “Go.” Luke took his own deep breath, trying not to run. Okay, maybe a part of him was scared she’d try to make a run for it out the back.  
  
Noah, Faith, and Hunter were outside, all of them leaning against the car. Faith and Hunter were trying to break the silence, asking Noah photography questions one by one. And not quite succeeding.  
  
He and Noah locked eyes the second he walked out. He smiled at Noah. Nodded.  
  
Noah’s eyes went a little wider and he swallowed hard. “Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah,” Luke reached for his hand, pulled him in. “You want me to stay with you? Or wait out here?”  
  
“Um,” Noah looked to the cafe,then back at Luke, biting his lip.  
  
Luke got it. “We’ll be out here, everything’ll be fine, okay?” He kissed Noah quickly. “And when you’re done, Grandma Emma’s sweet potatoes await.”  
  
He congratulated himself when Noah relaxed, laughing softly. “Yeah. Yeah. Good. Okay.” He looked to the doors one more time, back to Luke. Kissed him again. “Love you.”  
  
“I love you too,” Luke smiled when Noah squeezed his hand once, then walked into the cafe. To meet his mother.  
  
He joined Faith and Hunter at the car. They were possibly distracting themselves by going over the flowchart of the Snyder family tree that Faith had made for Hunter to study. (Luke wasn’t the only one finally introducing a guy to the family this weekend.) Faith looked up when he settled next to her. “You’re not going in with him?”  
  
He shook his head. “We’ve intruded enough. This should be just for them.”  
  
“You’re not even curious?” she questioned, raising that eyebrow.  
  
He hoped the ‘how crazy are you?’ look would suffice as an answer. He stayed where he was, eyes on the cafe doors. Waiting. He’d wait as long as he had to. There weren’t many things in life he could guarantee, but him waiting for Noah was for sure one of them.  
  
He purposefully didn’t keep track of time; he didn’t want to worry. So he had no idea how long it took for Noah to walk back out. But he knew it took about two seconds for him to cross the parking lot to Noah and grab him. That was what mattered.  
  
Noah hugged him back, breathing out slowly into Luke’s shoulder. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey,” Luke pulled away to study him. Noah looked a little shaky, a little worn out, but also... “Okay?” he asked, keeping his voice light.  
  
Noah nodded, offering a little smile in return. “Okay. Very... strange, but okay.”  
  
They walked hand in hand back to the car. “So you, uh...”  
  
Noah shrugged. “I need some time to wrap my head around things before we meet again. She’s not really what I expected, you know?”  
  
“Yeah,” he squeezed Noah’s hand, intertwined their arms a little tighter. “But you’re okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” Noah echoed. “She- she said to have my bodyguard call her when I wanted to meet up again.”  
  
He ignored how happy that made him-  _again_ \- Noah wasn’t ready for him to make a big deal out of it yet. “She called me your bodyguard?”  
  
“Actually,” Noah glanced at him sideways. “I think she was referring to Faith.”  
  
“Damn straight,” Faith nodded proudly, already climbing into the driver’s seat. “You two cuddle in the back. We’ve got a five hour drive to Oakdale ahead of us.”  
  
Luke groaned dramatically, pulling Noah with him into the backseat. “Oh God, prepare yourself Mayer. A weekend of horrors and over protective mothers and chatty cousins and at least one hookup and divorce. Rest up now, while you can.”  
  
Noah took the seatbelt out of Luke’s hands, buckled it for him, and kept his hands at Luke’s waist. Holding on, tugging Luke forward by his shirt. They kissed slow and sweet. “We can handle it.”  
  
 _We._  When he said it like that, it sounded like a promise. “Yeah.” He ran his hand up the side of Noah’s face. Another kiss. “We can. I like that we can.”  
  
Noah smirked. “Baby, that’s a really roundabout way to say you’re happy.”  
  
Luke used the hand at his face to smack Noah playfully. “Trust me. I’ll show you later.”  
  
That was a promise, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Thanks for everyone for reading! :)


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